Life or Death
by Calico West
Summary: The balance between life and death can be a harrowing journey. To those who are left waiting for that final step to be taken, the torment even worse, especially when the one that's doing the balancing is your Pard.
1. Chapter 1

**Life or Death**

Chapter One

The late day sun, its rays being drawn back and forth between growing clouds, cast a warming glow over the vast outline of the Sherman ranch. Slim Sherman rode his horse through a section of his property, following a fence line that he had just finished rewiring to meet up with his friend and ranch partner, Jess Harper. When the lone worker came into his view, still at work on the same fence line, Slim smiled at the half glance his partner sent his way and then left his horse tied alongside the other mount that patiently waited for their return to home.

"Are you going to be at that all day?" Slim called to Jess as he stopped at their stash of tools to drop the fencing gear he'd been using.

"I have been at it all day," Jess answered with slight annoyance attached to each word as he continued to tighten a new string of wire. "In case you haven't noticed, sun'll be going down in a little bit and we've been out here since sunrise."

"You were the one who suggested we take that lengthy break for lunch and then you dropped your hat over your eyes," Slim came up behind Jess and touched the back of his hat to let it drape over Jess' eyes. "Next thing I knew I heard you snoring."

"Cut that out, Slim," Jess said, trying not to grin as he pushed his hat back where it belonged. "If I can't see what I'm doing, I can't finish this dad-gummed job. By looking at your grinning face, I take it you finished with your end of the line."

"Yeah," Slim nodded, draping his arm over the nearest fence post.

"And I gather you ain't gonna help me finish my end," Jess said as he took the fencing tool from his hip pocket and secured the wire in place.

"Nope, I'm done working today. I guess you shouldn't have dozed off earlier," Slim smiled as Jess playfully slapped at him. "I'm heading back to the house. It'll feel good to sit down on the porch, prop my feet up and relax."

"Rub it in a little rougher," Jess commented wryly, keeping his eyes on his hands as he worked.

"Remember," Slim tapped on the rim of Jess' hat, "we both decided heading out here this morning that we'd work on separate areas and see who got the most work done."

"Yeah," Jess spoke as he continued to work. "Next time wake me so I don't have to look at your smug face when the day's over. There. Just another post to attach the wires to and I'm done."

"Good," Slim smiled, heading towards his horse, Alamo. "See you back at the house. Don't forget to bring all the tools home."

"Yeah, sure," Jess gave a wave towards Slim without looking at him as he quickly finished the job.

When Jess was finished a few minutes later, he grabbed the tools and quickly hopped onto his horse, Traveler. He knew Slim had only left a little over five minutes ahead of him and he had planned on taking a short cut, running his horse up a stream to meet with the road, where if he guessed correctly, he'd come up on the road near the creek crossing just before Slim would.

Right before Jess turned his horse into the creek bed, he pulled his mount to a swift halt. Something was triggering his senses. He sat still, listening, but heard nothing but nature, smelling, but noted nothing abnormal. Jess slowly eased Traveler forward, keeping his eyes trained for any movement that didn't belong. If he could have defined how he felt, he would have said it was more than an instinctive feeling, as one often felt if something was about to go wrong. He took a long, hard look around him and then led Traveler into the water, wanting to get to Slim as fast as he could, because if there was danger around, with Slim being there on the main road, he might be riding right into it alone.

Jess kept Traveler at a quick pace, but not at a frantic pace, lest he injure his mount. He kept listening, but now that the hooves of his horse were splashing, it was harder to hear every detail. Jess was certain he wasn't being followed, was almost equally as certain that there was no one watching him, but he knew there was something wrong, as if whatever was causing this feeling was standing right in front of him. The loud blast of a rifle that suddenly broke the silence was evidence enough that he hadn't been mistaken.

Jess flinched at the sharp report and had his pistol in hand a second later. He could have sworn he felt pain, but knew a bullet hadn't penetrated his flesh, but there was something squeezing his chest, whether it was fear or reality, he didn't know. Jess kept Traveler still only a moment longer before he urged his mount to hurry to where the road was.

There were two paths he could have taken. The first was the one he'd initially planned to meet Slim, the second, this one a little more precarious, would take him up a steep slope to meet the road where it would start to turn a corner. The second one was the path Jess chose. Before he reached the top of the trail that would connect to the road, pounding hooves on the road above him met his ears. He knew he was too far below the road to get there in time to meet with whoever was running the horse at a full gallop, but he had his gun in hand, ready just in case as he hurried Traveler to the top. Breaking through the brush, Jess could only see a faint dust cloud heading in the opposite direction of the ranch house. For a moment, Jess debated whether he should take off after the rider, but there was that trepidation warning going off in his head again, so loud he couldn't ignore. He turned Traveler away from where the rider had left and started to turn the corner towards home.

Around the bend, Jess gasped at the sight that met his eyes. Slim lay flat on the ground, so pale was his face that Jess instantly feared that his life was already gone. "Slim!" Jess leapt from his horse and knelt beside his fallen partner.

Jess saw the lungs still working on air at the same moment he put his finger to Slim's neck to feel for a pulse. It was so weak he barely felt it and he had to keep his finger there for ten long counts of its beat to really convince himself that Slim wasn't dead. There wasn't any blood on Slim's front, but he didn't have to look long to know where the bullet had hit. Blood was soaking into the dirt beneath him and Jess barely raised Slim from the ground to see that he had been shot in the back.

Rage was the first emotion that Jess could define that pushed through the shock. He looked back towards where the rider he'd heard had gone and said through teeth gritted so tight his words barely were audible, "a dirty back shooter."

Slim groaned, although it sounded more like a wheeze and Jess' full attention was back to his partner. He gently took his handkerchief and put pressure onto Slim's wound, but the blood was coming so quickly it turned the blue bandana crimson in seconds, seeping through to his hand, then dripping back into the dirt. He had seen many wounds before, but none this bad that the man that suffered had lived.

"Here, Trav," Jess barely glanced at his horse, instructing his mount to come. With his horse near his side, Jess looked up to the saddle to where he would need to place Slim when he had a sudden realization. "Where's Alamo?"

Even if the horse had taken a fright when Slim had fallen, Alamo shouldn't have been too far. They had trained their horses too well for him to run pell-mell home. He called the horse's name and whistled, but when there was no response, Jess had the sick feeling wash over him that he hadn't just heard any horse galloping away, but he had heard Alamo's hooves. The man who shot Slim did so for his horse. The rage was even stronger then.

Jess lifted Slim as gently as he could and placed him on his saddle before climbing up behind him and holding him with one arm, and reaching for the reins with the other. "You know the way home, Trav, get going," Jess instructed, casting one last glance to where the shooter had fled to, knowing he'd be back to track the man down. "I'll be coming for you, mister," Jess vowed, "no man's gonna shoot Slim down without answering to me."

The distance to the house wasn't covered fast enough for Jess. He couldn't let Traveler pound the ground, or the rapid movement could have been fatal for Slim. When the house finally came into sight, Jess started hollering for Jonesy and was relieved when the older man came running from the barn as soon as he saw Slim slumped in his arms.

"What happened?" Jonesy reached up for Slim and fearing the worst, felt his chest for the faint heartbeat.

"Someone shot him in the back and stole Alamo," Jess said, letting Jonesy's hands hold onto Slim while he dismounted. Once on the ground, Jess took Slim in his arms and carried him into the house where he nearly ran into Andy who had just come from the bedroom.

"Slim!" Andy cried, covering his hands over his mouth. "Is he?"

"No," Jonesy patted Andy on the shoulder, "and he's not gonna," although Jonesy knew even at that moment he might not be telling the truth.

"We're gonna need lots of bandages," Jess swallowed, not liking the tightness he felt in his throat.

"Are you shot too?" Jonesy asked, looking at Jess with wide eyes.

Jess shook his head as he looked down at his shirt. From how he had been holding onto Slim and the blood that had soaked onto his front, it did appear as if he'd been carrying a bullet as well. He hadn't noticed during the ride at how much blood had transferred from Slim's body to his, but he felt a strange gratification that how he had held him tight, his own body working like a compress, had helped slow the flow of blood.

"What're we going to do?" Andy asked, his body visibly shaking.

"I'll ride to town and get Doc Sweeney," Jess answered, never taking his eyes off of Slim while he spoke. He had to keep watching him breathe to know that he hadn't lost him but he also knew he would have to leave, and that thought nearly tore him in two. "Jonesy, you do whatever you can."

"I will," Jonesy promised while he sat down on the bed next to Slim, his hand protectively touching Slim's forehead. He spoke softly, tenderly wiping away the beads of sweat that trickled down Slim's face. "Get there quickly, Jess. I'm afraid there won't be much time for this one."

Jess nodded, took a deep breath, grabbed an extra shirt from his drawer and changed out of the soiled shirt and into the clean one while he exited the house, leaving the bloodied top right where it fell just outside of the house. He was on top of Traveler in a flash and as he rode from the house, he saw Andy out of the corner of his eye watching him ride away, tears streaming down the boys face, but he didn't turn to look at him fully, otherwise his own cheeks would turn wet. However, he could hear Andy plainly, his cries floated to him as Jess urged his mount onward. "Hurry, Jess, hurry."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He had heard the saying that when you were dying your life flashed before your eyes. It had never happened to Jess in all of the times he had been wounded, so he didn't know if that was an accurate statement, but what he now went through knowing that Slim was possibly dying made the adage possible. As he rode Traveler towards Laramie, he couldn't stop the visuals of Slim's life since he'd been a part of it from flashing like lightning in his mind.

Jess heard Slim's voice calling his name as he was leaving the ranch for Rock Springs when he went to help Vic Stoddard, although at the time he hadn't known his old friend was already dead and that he'd spend a lengthy time wearing a deputy's star there instead. He had never finished the letter he'd began to Slim explaining his new job, so Slim had no knowledge of what was going on in his life while he was away. After Sheriff Hatch had died, Jess was faced with a crossroads. The town had wanted him to continue on as sheriff, but Jess was ready to go home. He knew he'd made the right decision when Slim welcomed him back. Jess could still see Slim's happy expression when he returned home through the same gate he'd left through on that long journey.

Then came the day when the new stage line superintendent arrived, forcefully demanding that Jess leave the Sherman ranch. He was willing to go for Slim's sake, but Slim was willing to risk it all to keep Jess at the home where he belonged. Jess remembered every word of their conversation in the bedroom together when Jack Slade continued to threaten his firing. He could still see the expression on Slim's face when he'd said "this place wouldn't be the same without you and your troubles." He'd meant it, and that statement had made all the difference in how Jess' roots had remained planted there, even more solidly than before.

There was no denying the fact that Jess had brought many troubles to the ranch in the time he'd been there, but Slim had shared every one. He saw in his mind all over again the wound on Slim's forehead created by Jim Hedrick when his friend Mac had been wrongly hanged by the corrupt judge and his son. He then saw Slim's knife wound that he'd suffered during their run on the Lolo when Jess' brother-in-law, Gil Brady's evil side had come out. There were also the many times they'd taken on the outside world's troubles together. He envisioned their time wearing badges, from the day they had to face Tom Creighton and his gang, to the time just a few weeks earlier that they'd spent in Agate, Nebraska in the middle of a range war.

Now he saw Slim's nearly lifeless expression all over again, and he closed his eyes to block the scene, but it wouldn't leave. He took a deep breath to steady his emotions and carried onward. He couldn't lose Slim, not now, not like this. There was always a high risk in the life they led, Jess knew that, but one was never quite prepared for such a blow as seeing his best friend, his partner, his brother, shot down cold and left to die.

Jess fought several emotions after the first waves of memories, with the one hitting the hardest being guilt. He chided himself for not being done with his part of the fencing job so that they could have left for home together. If they'd been side by side on the road like they should have been, the gunman might not have pulled the trigger. Slim would be fine, and they'd all be sitting at home relaxing on the front porch as always. But that wasn't his reality. What was sickeningly real was the pounding in Jess' temples that Slim might not make it, might already be gone.

It was almost completely dark when Jess arrived in town. He jumped from his horse in the middle of the street and ran straight to the doctor's office. With the darkened streets and his high level of stress, Jess missed the note pinned on the outside of the doctor's door when he barged through it. He called loudly for the doctor but when there was no response his frustration grew, as did the volume of his voice as he continued to call the doctor's name as he went through every room of the building to only find each empty. Jess slammed his hand onto the nearest object, a counter top with rows of bottles on it, which on impact with Jess' fist made everything rattle as if it were shuddering in fright.

Hoping he'd still have a chance with Doc Sweeney perhaps being in the saloon, it was then as Jess went through the office door that the note pinned to its front caught his eye. He ripped the paper from its pin, the tear right in the middle of the words: _Delivering Mrs. Addison's twins. Don't know how long it'll take._

"No!" Jess spat in frustration. Alex Addison had been boasting for weeks that Doc Sweeney was certain that his wife was carrying twins and almost for the same amount of time had thought that everyday would be _the_ day, but so far the anxious father's prediction hadn't come true, until now. "Why now?" Jess groaned and then kicked the doctor's office door shut so hard that it fell from its hinges and crashed to the ground with a definite thud.

"Jess!" The call was from Sheriff Mort Cory who walked swiftly to his location from across the street. "What are you trying to do? I could hear you banging around clear back at my office."

"I have good reason, Mort," Jess explained hurriedly. "Slim's been shot real bad. I came for the doc, but he ain't here. Slim's back at the house dying or already dead and I have to go back there without the help he needs."

"How'd it happen?" Mort asked, the alarm from Jess quickly spreading across his own face.

"He was back shot while some mangy coyote stole his horse."

"Where did this happen?" Mort asked, his lawman mind already at work to get a posse together.

"Near the tight corner just above the creek a couple miles east side of the ranch house," Jess spoke rapidly as he walked towards his horse, still standing in the middle of the street where he'd left him. "When I get my hands on that no-good, filthy…"

"All right, Jess," Mort put his hand on Jess to stop the tirade of vows from spilling from his lips. "You get back to the ranch where you're needed. I'll send someone out to the Addison place to let Doc Sweeney know he's got another job to do. At first light I'll get a posse out there where Slim was shot and go after the man that did it."

"First light?" Jess spun around fast to look Mort in the eye. "That could be too late! I want that man Mort and I'm gonna have him."

"Use your head, boy," Mort kept his tone calm to try to get Jess to see his point. "Night is fast falling. Besides, look up at the sky. It's been clouding up for the past hour. There wouldn't be anything out there to do but have each posse member chasing his own shadows."

"Mort," Jess said each word slowly with bite to each one, "if Slim's already dead when I get back or dies sometime in the night, nothing, nothing is gonna stop me from going after him whether it's dark out, raining, snowing or anything worse than that. Nothing is gonna stop me because Slim's life means that much to me."

"I know, Jess," Mort said with a sigh.

Jess mounted and gave Mort one last look before he took off and Mort couldn't help but notice the fear he was trying hard to mask with his anger. Jess was not the type to overact in a situation such as this, so Mort knew that what he said could possibly be true. Slim could be dead and for a moment, Mort didn't feel like a lawman, but he felt every ounce of being Slim Sherman's friend as the tension, sorrow and dread of what might have been or what was to come filled his being.

Mort took a shaky breath and looked up at the darkened sky and then headed for the telegraph office. The Cramer kid liked to loiter there, even at night, so Mort figured he could accomplish two tasks at once. Send Willy Cramer out to the Addison farm to tell the doctor about Slim, and get the telegraph operator to send as many wires as he could this night to alert every neighboring town in the Territory about a possible killer riding Slim Sherman's horse. Then Mort figured he'd plan the posse and be out at the very crack of dawn, even if he had to pound on each door to arouse the men he needed for the job.

This would turn out to be a very long night for a lot of people for many different reasons. For one family it would mean life, for another family it could mean death, and for several others, the vital role they played in the final outcome of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jess felt the exhaustion coming from Traveler as he retained his strenuous gallop over the road home. He knew his mount was giving him everything he was asking through his strength and agility, but Jess knew he couldn't risk the life of another friend, so he reluctantly slowed Traveler to a more comfortable trot after a mile on the returned trip to the ranch. Doing so made the remaining eleven mile span seem exaggeratingly slow, but with the weight of worry on his shoulders, even if he had been chugging along this homeward stretch on a speedy locomotive it wouldn't have been fast enough.

Jess heard a couple of coyotes start to yip and yowl not far to the left of the road and as he turned to look in that direction, he began to noticed how dark the night really was. Mort's statement had been right. There would have been nothing for a posse to see, as he could see nothing beyond the shadows closest to him. Jess hadn't been lying to Mort about heading out, darkness and all, if Slim had already passed away, but as Jess continued to stare where the noisemaking coyotes should have been seen, he wasn't even sure he would be able to find the gunman's trail. His mind spoke a repeated plea that he wouldn't have to.

Not knowing what time it was, just that it was still the blackest of night, Jess rode into the sight of the house. He could see the glow of the lamp from the bedroom window and with each step that brought him closer, he could tell that was the only room that held a lighted lamp. Jess took that as a good sign, because it meant that Jonesy hadn't had reason to leave Slim's side. If he was gone, well, Jess couldn't dismiss that thought as readily as he wanted to, but Jess knew that Jonesy would be consoling Andy near the fireplace, in the kitchen, or anywhere but the bedroom.

Jess didn't bother to tie Traveler's reins to the hitching post, he just let them drop so his mount could wander wherever he needed. The horse found the water trough first, but Jess was in the front door of the house before he took the first drink. Jess' footsteps brought Jonesy through the bedroom door, the expression on the weathered face no different than when he'd left. This told him plain that Slim was still alive. Jess felt the air slowly expel from his lungs, but knew it would get held again soon, since he had to tell Jonesy the doctor wouldn't be coming.

"Where's Doc Sweeney?" Jonesy asked, craning his head to try to see behind Jess, hoping the aging doctor was just slow coming in.

"Delivering babies."

"No," Jonesy put a hand to his cheek. "Not them Addison twins! Why, I heard tell from Grandma Addison that it always takes an entire night or longer for one of her grandchildren to get born, and this one's coming in twos. Slim can't wait that long, Jess, he's barely holding on right now."

"Then one of us will have to try for the bullet," Jess said, taking off his gloves, finger by finger, already knowing that it would be him. Everyone around Laramie knew that Jonesy was the Sherman ranch's resident medicine man with his assortment of liniments for all ailments, but Jess knew that Jonesy would be the first to admit that he wasn't qualified to try to extract a bullet such as this. Jess wasn't really either, yet he'd done it before, but not on his best friend, not when it could mean the end of a life he loved as if they were flesh and blood brothers.

"I'll get some knives heated up," Jonesy said bleakly as he walked into the kitchen.

Jess tossed his hat without aiming, yet it still found the hook by the door before he pulled a couple of matches from his pocket. He lit every lamp, as the oppressive darkness was starting to add to the heavy burden he held, but no matter how much light now radiated from the house, it couldn't dispel the darkness from each heart. He watched Jonesy briefly preparing in the kitchen, and then he walked almost silently into the bedroom, his eyes being attached to Slim immediately.

Jess took a steady breath as he kneeled next to Slim. He watched the slow intake of breath, how it was held slightly, before it was then released through Slim's barely parted lips. He touched Slim's forehead, surprised to feel it so warm, and then rested a finger near his pulse point. Slow, as it was before, but he didn't know if it was just wishful thinking or reality, but Jess was certain that it felt stronger than when he first found him in the dirt.

"What can I do, Jess?"

The tension had been so thick Jess hadn't remembered Andy. But there he was, standing near Jess' elbow, his face almost as pale as Slim's. Jess turned to look at the boy in the eyes, seeing every bit of fear that he held coming from them. He hoped that whatever Andy could see in his own, wasn't that same deathly fear.

"Andy, I know you wanna help, and you can," Jess gently put his hands on Andy's shoulders and tried to not sound as desolate as he felt. "There's a couple of important things I need you to do. Traveler needs tending. I rode him mighty hard at times so give him every ounce of your goodness. And then when you're through, I want you to wait outside on the porch and listen as hard as your ears can hear for Doc Sweeney's arrival. As soon as you hear the turn of a wheel, or the first clop of a horse's hoof, I wanna know."

"All right," Andy said almost silently. "Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"Slim is going to make it, right?"

"Andy," Jess pulled Andy close to him, tucking him under his right arm. "I think you're old enough and close enough to being a man that I ain't gonna lie to you. Slim is in real bad shape, bad enough that he could die, but Jonesy and I are gonna do everything we can to not let that happen and help pull him through this. Slim don't wanna die, Andy. I bet there in his deep sleep he's fighting with everything he's got to live."

"Then he will," Andy said with a resolute firmness.

"Keep believing that, Andy," Jess said, wishing he could find the same confidence. "Now get outside and do like I asked."

Andy ran through the bedroom door just as Jonesy came through it. Jonesy waited until Andy was out the front door before he opened his palm, showing Jess that the knives were ready. Jonesy sighed, dropping his eyes to Slim's motionless body, wishing with all of his might that his eyes would fly open and give him reason to chuckle. But Slim was too far gone to do that, and Jonesy felt the fear start to squeeze even tighter in his chest that Slim was too far gone to do anything ever again. He set the knives down, folded his hands together and turned his eyes to Jess.

Jess knew that what needed to be done was not something he could avoid. He was, by nature, the type of man who always took things that came at him head on. He had never shirked in the face of adversity before, and now wouldn't be the time to start. But this was far different than facing an enemy in any form of fight. This was holding a life in his hands, Slim's life, and it had to be done, right now.

"Pard," Jess said, swallowing twice before he could continue, "you're not gonna wanna know that it's my hand going for the bullet. If you did, you'd probably jump right outta that bed and keep running until you got clean outta the Territory. My hands ain't…"

Jess looked down at his hands and maybe for the first time, viewed them with the precise details he saw now. He flexed his fingers open and closed, this being his prime telltale sign of agitation. Forcing them to be still, he held one hand closer to his eyes. His fingers were spread slightly apart, the nails on each cut low and never even, but not looking as misshapen as they did when he was a youngster with a bad habit of gnawing on his fingernails. His skin was not soft and smooth, but rough in places, especially along the lines where his grip would tighten over whatever object he was holding.

His hands were strong and forceful. Clenched into a fist they were a powerful weapon. The right hand, the one he depended on the most, had the ability to pull a gun out of his holster in rapid speed with the finger on the trigger to pull it if necessary an instant later. They were trained, skilled and knew how to perform a multitude of tasks without balking under pressure or flinching at the beginning of pain. These were hands meant for roping, branding, gun drawing, axe wielding, hammer pounding and all around hard labor and every bit of it showed in their appearance. Around his palms were calluses and scars that proved their capabilities of various duties, and it was these marks where Jess kept his gaze lingered upon the longest. He knew without even thinking that his hands displayed quite openly that they were not the hands of a skilled physician.

However, what Jess didn't see, but was actually there, were hands that had cuddled a young puppy, gentled a nervous horse, comforted the injured, helped the weak, and caressed a soft face. This hand that he viewed had the tenderness to pick a fragrant flower, hold a freshly hatched chick, touch a kitten so that it purred, and could wipe away several tears, that of his own, and on other cheeks as well. Jess' hands were both strong and gentle, if he could only see what they really were, he'd know they were more than adequately equipped.

"Jonesy," Jess said softly as he lowered his hands back to Slim's body. "We best get him turned over."

Ever since they'd placed Slim on the bed, he'd been laying on the wound to help keep the bandage in place to help slow down the overflow of blood. Now that it was time to try to remove the bullet, they needed him in a better position. Jess waited until Jonesy was on the opposite side of the bed before he started to gently roll Slim onto his stomach. Jonesy helped move the legs, while Jess had a hold of the shoulders and as Jess turned him, Slim groaned so audibly with such a heart wrenching sound that Jess couldn't contain the gasp from his own lips.

"I'm sorry, Slim," Jess said quickly, although he didn't figure Slim could even hear him. Once safely turned, Slim was as deep into the darkness of unconsciousness that a man could be while still being alive.

"Looks like the blood hasn't been pumping out quite as fast as before," Jonesy said as he peeled back the layers of bandaging. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath as he got a full view of the wound, almost feeling the unfamiliar punch in his gut of nausea. "Still doesn't look good."

"Never saw a bullet wound look pretty," Jess said, trying to relieve a least an ounce of tension. He touched the skin around the open wound, little spurts of blood coming through the hole as he felt for the bullet. He wished he could feel it with his fingers, indicating that it wasn't as deep as feared, but there was nothing to feel but swollen, angry flesh. "Get the smallest knife."

"Jess," Jonesy held the knife Jess had requested, but reluctantly kept it in his grip. "Are you sure this is right?"

Jess knew what Jonesy was questioning. He looked into Jonesy's eyes and saw fear sparkling with the unshed tears. He felt it too, but he knew there was no other answer, no other way. Doc Sweeney was unavailable and Slim was dying. Jess didn't need to have any medical expertise to know that fact. He could sense it in the way Slim struggled to breathe, the sound he emitted when he groaned, the way he seemed so horribly lifeless as he'd been turned. There was only one right thing, and this was it.

"There's only one answer, Jonesy," Jess said, reaching out to take the knife from Jonesy's hand. "It's life or death. Either way you look at it, Slim's gonna die if that bullet don't come out, it's the only way he could possibly live and I want Slim to live."

"Me too," Jonesy said so softly Jess could barely pick out the words.

"Get the lamp and bring it close so I can see as best as I can," Jess instructed. "I doubt he's gonna move, but if he does, I'll need your hands on him instead."

As soon as the knife was inserted, Jonesy, not wanting to watch the agonizing details, kept his eyes on Jess' facial expressions. Jess held his jaw in a tight clench, but the corners of his mouth moved as he concentrated. Jonesy could see the tension in the blue eyes that focused entirely on the wound, the lines crinkling around the eyelids as Jess searched for the bullet. There was no masking the pain and grief that Jonesy saw in his features as he knew it must have been torturing Jess on the inside to be working on Slim this way. Jess clenched his jaw even tighter, spreading his lips far enough apart that his teeth showed. Then Jonesy saw a muscle jump in his cheek and the eyes drew a spark. Jonesy knew in that instant that Jess had found the bullet. Jess held his breath so Jonesy held his too, and then with the rush of its release through Jess' teeth came the sound of the bullet hitting a bedside pan.

"Quick, Jonesy," Jess said hurriedly, "get some pressure on it, he's losing blood fast."

Jess knew that Jonesy did as he said without seeing him do so as Jess picked up a towel to wipe his hands. He looked down at Slim's ashen face and the towel dropped instantly to the ground. "Slim!"

"What is it?" Jonesy asked, although he somehow knew, but he wouldn't release his hand from applying the necessary pressure to the wound to look.

"No, no, no," Jess said repeatedly as he dropped to his knees. "Slim ain't breathing! What have I done?"

"Dear Lord," Jonesy let a tear fall and it landed in a soft droplet on Slim's back near the wound.

"Come on, Slim," Jess pleaded, giving Slim a firm, but gentle shake. "Don't leave us, Slim. Come on, Hard Rock show us what you're made of! Dad-gummit Slim, breathe!"

The sound that Slim made, as his lips parted ever so slightly to take in the precious air and then the release that soon followed was as beautiful as anything either Jess or Jonesy had ever heard. Only thirty arduous seconds had passed that Jess hadn't seen him breathe, yet in that grueling time span, the tightness that had gripped Jess' chest was enough to know that if Slim had died, his own heart would have been ripped from his chest. It might have kept beating, but it would have lost its vigor for life if Slim had lost his life. Jess dropped his hand to rest on Slim's head, watching as he continued to draw the air through his lips. Slim was still alive, for now, and as Jonesy let the tears fall down his weathered face, Jess looked up into those wet eyes and drew a smile on his taut lips, bringing the same response in return from Jonesy.

"I think if I was a woman I'd be passing out right about now," Jonesy said through his smile, and then brought it back into its pinched with worry look. "He's still bleeding mighty fast, Jess."

"I know," Jess nodded as he drew himself back to his feet. His legs were shaking, but that was the only part of his body that betrayed his firm resolve. His hands stayed steady as he added more compresses to Slim's wound, wishing there was more that he could do. "I'm afraid I did more damage yanking that bullet out than when it went in."

"It had to come out, Jess," Jonesy tried to encourage. "I sure wish that doc would get here."

"Have any clue what time it is?"

"No," Jonesy shook his head. "I don't wanna remove my hands from Slim to check my watch. But if my brain is ticking as accurately as the timepiece, then I'd say it's near four."

"He was shot around six," Jess felt the stab in his chest as he remembered the sound, remembered the man riding away on Alamo.

"Ten hours," Jonesy sighed. "He's made it this far. That counts for something, right?"

"Yeah," Jess answered, daring to peek under the bandage to see if any less blood was coming. "I just hope that it's enough."

The next hour went by excruciatingly slow. The only sounds within the room were Slim's rasping breaths, with Jess and Jonesy's ears straining to hear each and every one of them. Even the constant ticking on the clock from the other room went unnoticed as their focus was entirely on the unconscious man in his bed. Jess stared at Slim without movement except for his eyes when they needed to blink, but on Jonesy's face, the man's lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same prayer.

From a distance, Jess heard the noise approaching and it broke his constant concentration. He stood, knowing who was coming a moment before Andy burst through the front door with the announcement, "Doc Sweeney's here!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Jess sat down on his bunk, leaned forward slightly so his elbows rested on his knees and clasped his hands together, covering his eyes with them. He listened to every movement the doctor made as he examined Slim and knew without looking what he was doing when he was patching him together. It was the deep sigh that came from the doctor that finally made Jess remove his hands from his face so he could see Dr. Sweeney's expression.

"You took the bullet out, Jess?" Dr. Sweeney asked, but Jess only nodded his head for a reply. "You did a good job."

"Only thing I wanna know is if it was good enough," Jess' voice was low, but the emotion in his words wasn't hard to miss.

Dr. Sweeney stood in silence for several seconds before answering. "I'm afraid I can't tell you what you want to hear. But what I do know is that if you hadn't gotten the bullet out when you did, Slim would already be dead."

"But he could still die?" Jess asked, fearful of the answer.

"Yes," the word brought a visible shudder to both Jess and Jonesy. "He's real bad. I honestly don't know how he's hung on this long. The blood loss has been tremendous. But I'm going to tell it plain, Slim's going to stay right at death's door for some time. If he continues to linger, it's going to be the next few days that will be the most crucial. The only thing Slim has going for him, and it's not much, is that he's already a physically strong man. I'm afraid though, that strength just might not be enough."

Jess saw Andy standing alone in the doorway, the physical exhaustion so evident Jess wondered how he could even still stand. He walked over to the boy and put his arm around him, leading him to Jonesy's bed on the other side of the room. Andy laid down and Jess spoke softly to him, not promising him of Slim's recovery, but whispering in soothing tones about holding onto every good memory they'd had as a family up until now, to gently sway the young man off to sleep. When Andy's eyes drifted closed and stayed that way, Jess pulled himself away from him and stood next to Slim's bed, watching for every labored breath he took.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do here," Dr. Sweeney snapped his medical bag closed and stood still for a moment, watching Slim. An emotional doctor wasn't always a good doctor, he knew that, but as he watched Slim, he couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last time he saw Slim alive, and he felt the emotional pull of tears smart in his eyes, but pinched the bridge of his nose to not let any of them fall. "I have to get back to Laramie. Likely there'll be others that need my services since the Addison twins took so long coming into this world. Two boys by the way, big, strong and healthy."

Jonesy followed the doctor out the door, but Jess strode purposefully to the dinner table where he dropped a box of shells on it with enough force that several rolled around on the flat service. Even though the ones in his gun were perfectly fine, he unloaded his gun and put fresh bullets into each chamber, preparing for what he was about to do. Jonesy walked through the front door as soon as the last bullet was put into place.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jonesy asked as Jess dropped the gun back in its holster.

"I've gotta go after him, Jonesy," Jess said, moving past Jonesy to grab his rifle and do the same with it as he had done with his six-gun.

"You can't do that, Jess," Jonesy's tone wasn't forceful or demanding, yet the statement still held a ring of authority to it.

"Why?" Jess didn't bother to look at Jonesy, but continued to prepare his weapons.

"Slim's lying in there like that and you ask 'why'?"

"It's because Slim's lying in there that I have to go after the man who shot him," Jess felt like raising his voice to holler each word, but because he knew that Andy was asleep in Jonesy's bed he kept his tone level.

"Jess," Jonesy stepped directly in front of Jess so that he had to look at him. "If Slim dies…"

"Slim ain't gonna die!" This was shouted, but a quick glance through the bedroom door showed that it didn't arouse the boy.

"Listen to me Jess," Jonesy said. "You heard what Doc Sweeney said and you know how bad the wound is because you yourself operated on it. Slim could die, could pass any minute. If he does, your place is to be right here alongside him. You're a part of this family and where you belong is with this family. Do you know how you'd feel if you were off gallivanting who knows where searching for the man who did this and Slim did die? And what if Slim awakens, even for a moment before he takes his final breath and finds you not here? He needs to see you right here beside him because that's where a brother would belong. I know I can't stop you from storming out that door, but let me ask you one more thing. What's more important to you, love or revenge?"

Jess felt the blow of Jonesy's words as if he had been physically hit with a heavy board across his back. He dropped his hands to the table for support as the truth in what Jonesy had said sunk into him. He knew in his heart Jonesy was right, but those two emotions Jonesy mentioned were raging war within him. He had to make a choice and right now, Slim was the only choice to take. Jess gave Jonesy a look that almost showed gratitude and then went into the bedroom to sit beside Slim.

Jonesy sighed and looked out the window at the new day as the sunrise had just made its completion over the hill. There were chores to be done, the first incoming stage would arrive in an hour, but he had no stamina to do any of those things. He had just given a pretty decent speech to Jess about what was the right thing to do and he didn't need anyone retelling it to him, so Jonesy put his hat on his head and went outside, the first thing to do was feed the squawking chickens that immediately surrounded him.

Jonesy had just finished adding fresh water to the trough when he turned at the sound of footsteps to see Jess walking towards him. He noted by the way Jess moved, as his strides were swift, yet forceful, that he didn't have bad news to tell him. Jess nodded, his way to confirm the knowledge that Jonesy had already figured, and then went to work beside him to get ready for the stage.

"Didn't you say that Mort Cory would be out at dawn with a posse?" Jonesy asked.

"Yeah."

"Then they've probably been out tracking for the last hour or so," Jonesy looked up at the cloudy sky, seeing some of them turning darker. "I wish it didn't look like rain though. Mucks up the wheels and slows the horses on every stage."

"Not to mention washing away a stolen horse's tracks," Jess looked east towards the place where Slim had been shot. He knew the stage would roll through the same area and he hoped that Mort had already made a clear identification on Alamo's trail and started after it before the multitude of hooves of the stage team wiped it away. It would be even harder if Jonesy's predicted rain would come true. "Here comes the stage now."

"Early," Jonesy nodded as he looked up towards the road where the stage started rumbling into sight. "Looks like Mose driving. He probably heard about Slim and has been pushing to get here. Wish we had something better to tell him." Jonesy stepped out of the way of the stage as it rolled to a stop, standing next to Jess, both of their solemn faces were unable to bring on a welcoming smile for the stage driver or any of its passengers.

"I don't have to ask if what I heard in Cheyenne is true," Mose said as he started to climb down from the top of the coach. "Just looking at the two of your faces tells me plainly enough. Is Slim gone?"

"No," Jonesy answered, "but doc says it could still go either way."

"Can I see him?" Mose waited until both Jonesy and Jess nodded and then he called to the shotgun man. "Help change the team, Tex."

"You go ahead with him, Jess," Jonesy ushered with his hands and then started unhitching the horses alongside Tex. There had been only one passenger on the stagecoach, which was probably a good thing, since the elderly gentleman was rather ignored by all.

Andy was awake and standing by Slim's bedside when Mose tiptoed in. He patted Andy on the shoulder and then whisked his hat off his head to reveal his scraggly white strands that he tried to tame with a rub of his hands. Mose cleared his throat quietly as he stood still, but when his hand reached out to touch Slim's shoulder, Mose's body started to quake with his crying.

"You gotta get well, Slim," Mose didn't try to wipe away his tears, but let them fall freely. "You're one of the nicest fella's I ever did know. You've just gotta stick around and keep this place feeling like home. Please, Slim, get better."

Mose took a deep breath as he knew by the sounds outdoors that the stage was ready to go, therefore he knew he must say what might be his final goodbye. He gave Slim's shoulder one last squeeze and then walked out of the room, his sobbing getting louder with every step that he took as he left. Andy, feeling overwhelmed, ran after Mose, leaving Jess alone in the room.

Jess watched them leave, being glad that Andy had thought to close the front door so there was more silence around him and then put his gaze back on Slim. He stood still, rubbing his thumb over his fingers of his clenched fist. He heard the words again in his mind that Mose had said and then echoed Mose's last plea, adding the single word out loud, "please."

"Jess," Slim's weak voice called.

Jess dropped to his knees, unsure at first if he'd heard Slim at all or just imagined it, but as he looked closer at Slim's face, he saw the movement on his lips as Slim inaudibly said his name again. "I'm here, Pard."

"Jess," Slim didn't open his eyes, but Jess inched even closer to let Slim feel his presence and to help Jess hear his words, which came somewhat brokenly with a haggard breath every few words. "I thought I heard someone crying."

"Oh," Jess quickly glanced towards the door where Mose had just exited. "That was Mose."

"I guess," a pause as Slim tried to lick his lips, "that makes sense," another for a shallow breath, "because I know," once more to exhale, "you wouldn't be crying."

"Of course not," Jess tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn't comply.

"I need you," Slim tried to move but being stopped by pain or just the inability to do so made him gasp before continuing, "to promise me something."

"Promise you what, Pard?" Jess asked, wanting to say that he would promise to hunt the man down that did this, would promise that he would make the man pay, would promise he'd get Alamo back, or would promise he would do anything Slim asked of him.

"Promise me," Jess had to wait longer than ten seconds for the rest of the request to be spoken, "you'll take care of Andy, the ranch, Jonesy, everything." Slim's words were so soft Jess barely heard them, but he had heard and he understood. Slim knew he was dying and he had to have the assurance that Jess would take his place. There was no one else that he could depend on to take on this role other than Jess. With every heartbeat that struggled to continue to pump life through his veins, he had to know. "Promise me."

"I promise, Slim," Jess spoke the vow and truly meant what he'd said.

Being satisfied, Slim let out a rush of air through his lips and Jess felt the hard thump of his chest, afraid that it had been his last, but Slim had only fallen back into the depths of oblivion. Jess put a hand on Slim's arm, closed his eyes and dropped his head as a single droplet slipped through each of his eyelashes, but on the inside, Jess was weeping as loudly as Mose.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jess stretched his legs out in front of him, making the chair that he was in creak under his sudden weight shift. He looked at Slim for probably the thousandth time, grateful to see all the signs that he still lived. The day had passed as slowly as any grueling day could, Jess remaining by Slim's bedside the entire time. He hadn't left since he'd given Slim his promise, not even when the stages stopped, and he wasn't planning on stepping away any time soon.

Jonesy had been right. Jess knew it as soon as Slim called his name. If he had taken off after the man who'd shot Slim and stolen Alamo, he wouldn't have been there to hear Slim's request. He wouldn't have been able to assure Slim in his agony that if he did die, there would be someone to fill his boots. Jess looked down at the foot of the bed to where Slim's boots had been dropped. He reached for one and set it next to his own. Slim had a much bigger foot, therefore the boots were much larger, and Jess knew if he put them on, his feet would slide around in the extra length and width. There was really no way he could fill it properly, the boots or the man, because Slim was that kind of man.

He was intelligent, whereas Jess hadn't made it far in school. He was wise, whereas Jess often thought of the consequences after he took action. He was conscientious in his work, although Jess could measure up to that, Slim still had the diligence to press on without much complaint, and to not pause and horse around like Jess sometimes, although not every day, would do.

And then, probably the most important thing about Slim, he was strong. Jess could say that of himself too, but Slim's strength went one notch further. It was more than just a physical ability, although in their roughhousing games, Slim had somehow been able to have a little more of an edge, from height or just that little extra muscle bulge on his arms that he often teased Jess about. It was strength in mind, being able to control his temper, but letting it flare when it was needed the most. It was strength in soul, being able to keep himself calm, even in the midst of darkness and hard times. It was strength in the family, being the rock, the stable one that a young boy, an aging man, and a wild, rowdy, ex-gunfighter could look up to.

Jess rubbed his hands through his hair and wished that he would have said more to Slim in response to his promise. If the worst came he would fulfill it. Even if it meant his life would have to change drastically from just being the ranch hand, to the man in charge, he would do it because Slim wanted him to. Even if he would never be able to roam carefree again, or chase his own shadows that often crept up on him from his former life, he would do it, because he promised Slim.

There was something about Jess that most people that knew him could say was perhaps his number one attribute. It was his loyalty. He might have trouble planting his own physical roots in one spot, but the roots of loyalty to the people in his life went deep, especially to those he loved. It would be no different now, with perhaps one exception, it would show now even greater than ever before, because this was a family he loved. Slim was more to him than a friend, in some aspects, he could say that Slim was more than a brother.

There had been times since Jess had arrived at Slim's ranch a year earlier, that he wondered what it would have been like if they had grown up together, sharing the same parents and home. Slim was only two years older, so likely they would have bonded right from the moment of his birth with Slim just being a toddler himself. He would have taken Jess under his wing when Jess found his first steps and helped him learn to do more than crawl. He would have helped Jess grow from a baby, past toddlerhood, into the great adventures of childhood and on into manhood.

But as Jess thought of these things again now, he realized that despite the years since his birth, when he'd come to live at the Sherman ranch, Slim still did those things for him. They bonded right from the very beginning. There were many times that Slim had taken him under his wing and helped Jess through difficulties, helping him walk through those battles when otherwise he would have just stumbled alone. Slim had offered him more than a home, more than friendship, more than a place to set down roots. He'd offered him a new life, and he'd greatly accepted it, even if it had taken him a little while to wrap his stubborn head around it. In doing these things for him, Slim helped him grow, not in the aspects of how a child would grow, but to grow to be a better man than he ever imagined he could be.

Jess felt his head start to nod, but he shook it hard to keep himself awake. He looked over at the window to see the last light of day turn into darkness and the unwelcome rain that now pattered the ground. He started hearing noises coming from the kitchen, knowing that Jonesy was keeping Andy as busy as possible in there with dinner, although Jess was certain that no one would feel like eating whatever was being prepared.

He yawned, knowing that he should get up and move around, otherwise his lack of sleep would soon catch up to him and he knew, despite how tired he really was, that now wasn't the time for sleeping. Jess stepped to the dresser where he kept his things in a drawer, opened it, and pulled out a photograph that had been taken of himself and Slim when Lily Langford had been in town. Since a photographer was there to get as many snapshots of the singer as he could, he had filled the time before the performance to offer his services to those in attendance. Jess and Slim had decided since they were there dressed in their finery, that it would be a good time to pose.

Jess held the photograph in his hand and looked at every detail as if he had never seen it before. Slim had his arm around Jess' shoulder, a noticeable twinkle in his eyes that came from the warm smile on his face. Jess on the other hand, must have missed the photographer's exact command when he took the picture, for his face only held half of a smile, his finger was tugging at the collar around his neck as if it was too tight, and his eyes didn't seem to be looking directly at the photographer. It almost appeared that he had been doing a little drinking beforehand. Jess tapped the photograph on his palm in thought, wondering if he had been. It seemed now that as he was looking back on that night that he did remember taking a few too many sips before Miss Lily stepped on stage. Might not have made his picture excellent, but it sure made the fight that followed the singing that much more enjoyable. Jess would have chuckled if his heart hadn't been so heavy.

Jess returned the picture to the drawer and looked again at Slim. Even though Jess had never been the type to hang onto certain items, such as cherishing things as keepsakes, that photograph had just become one of his most prized possessions. There was only one other thing that he claimed as his own that he'd kept over the years that meant something to him, that being his gun. The gun that he wore on his hip before he lived at the Sherman ranch was now secured in a hidden nook along the edge of the fireplace. Put away, it served as a symbol of Jess' new life.

Jess rubbed his jaw, the thoughts of his famed revolver turning over in his head. How could one gun bring life for him, while another could bring death for Slim? Jess knew the answer before the question had even finished being formed in his mind and said the statement slowly in his head as his own response. _It's the man behind the gun_. One had made the choice of goodness, while the other had made the choice of evil. Jess had been on both sides at different points in his life, although never a murderer, he could have been classified as a killer. Good versus evil was often a line that many men didn't even know they were crossing until it was too late. Jess had taken the right side, even when he hovered over that fine line too many times to count. Slim had helped him see this inside of him, show him the good that lived inside of a man such as Jess Harper. This had made that now tucked away gun even more important as it didn't just define him with goodness, but with friendship.

He could hardly stand the thought of that friendship being torn apart by death. Since Slim had been shot, Jess had felt a part of him slowly dying along with Slim. He couldn't help but wonder, what would happen if Slim did succumb to the darkness of death? Who would he become? Was Slim looking out for him, even now as his life was slipping away? His promise to Slim would keep him grounded, whereas if Slim died and Jess had zero responsibilities to keep him at the ranch, his life would turn as dark as the days after his family had perished in the fire all those years ago in his youth, maybe now, they'd be even darker. He didn't want to go back to that place of bitterness, pain, and sorrow. But if Slim died, there would be nothing to stop that overwhelming grief from suffocating him like it had nearly choked him before.

Jess took the few steps that separated where he'd stood and Slim's bedside and he dropped down to his knees, one hand he placed on Slim's shoulder, the other was over his own heart. Jess felt the steady rhythm coming from his life source, wishing he could give its strength to Slim to keep the weakened heart inside of Slim's chest pumping. He gripped Slim's shoulder tight enough that if Slim had been conscious he would have expressed his discomfort at Jess' touch, this being all Jess could do to convey the deeply emotional cry of desperation he felt coming from inside of his heartbeat as he didn't know how to form them into words.

As the minutes ticked by in silence, Jess remained on his knees, his hands in their same positions as his heart bled with love for his dying brother and he could remain silent no more. He knew he would never be able to reach through Slim's dark barrier, but Jess let the words, simple as they might have been, come from his lips.

"Please don't die, Slim," Jess whispered near Slim's ear. "This reckless cowboy needs you."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jess stirred on his bunk, his mind still feeling groggy as he awakened. He knew instinctively that something was wrong, but couldn't quite remember until he opened his eyes. Slim, lying motionless in his bed was enough to make all of his senses come surging back, remembering everything that had transpired since Slim had been shot with excruciating detail. Jess sat up abruptly and his eyes were drawn to Jonesy sitting calmly beside Slim in the same chair Jess had occupied the day earlier.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep," Jess ran a hand through his messy locks and then down over his unshaven cheek. "Any change in Slim?"

"No better," Jonesy shook his head, "no worse, and don't argue because you needed the sleep."

"Maybe," Jess shrugged and then concealed a yawn. "What time is it anyway?"

"A little after ten," Jonesy answered.

"Ten!" Jess whispered hoarsely as his head whipped towards the window to look out at the late morning light. "Two stages have already passed through by then."

"Yep," Jonesy replied. "But don't go to fretting. Mose told me that the stage manager gave all the drivers and shotgun men orders that they'll do all the horse switching at our stop until, well come to think of it, he didn't say when, but I guess until something here changes."

"Any gossip going around about the posse?" Jess asked. He knew that if anyone would have heard some news, it would have been Mose. It was often said that stage drivers were more gossipy than barbers, although Jess knew that was because they were around a lot more diverse group of people, especially the ones that liked to talk incessantly at every stage stop.

"Not a word," Jonesy frowned knowing the answer would irk Jess and wasn't surprised when the dark eyebrows pushed together. "But that probably means that they stayed out all night. Maybe there'll be news by the evening stage."

Jess didn't answer, but stood up and walked to the window to look out at the drizzle that continued to fall from the sky. He could see across the front yard to the barn where the door was wide open and saw Andy brushing his pony, Flash. Jess watched the boy in silence for a moment, wondering if there was anything he should be doing to help him through this.

"Comforts him I think to keep company with Flash and Traveler," Jonesy said, somehow knowing not only what Jess was looking at, but what he was thinking. "The animals take comfort in him too."

Jess turned away from the window and sat back down on his bunk, already feeling the heaviness on his shoulders of it going to be another agonizing day even though he'd only been awake for a few minutes of it. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and in doing so, smelled a welcoming scent coming from the kitchen. "Do I smell coffee?"

"Made a fresh pot an hour ago," Jonesy stood up from his chair and pressed his hands to his back. "I need to move around anyhow, do you want me to get you a cup?"

"That'd be great, Jonesy," Jess nodded as he also stood, ready to take the chair that Jonesy had just vacated, but before he had a chance to set himself down, the sound of a single rider sloshing on the muddy road was coming towards the house. "Gotta be Mort."

Jess hurried to the door and swung it wide, seeing that his assumption was correct. Mort Cory rode slowly towards the front of the house and then dismounted, leaving his rain slicker draped over the hitching post.

"Mort," Jess greeted with a nod instead of the handshake that Jonesy had given when he stepped onto the porch. He knew by the expression on Mort's face that he wasn't going to hear what he wanted.

"How's Slim?" Mort asked as he took off his dripping hat and slapped some of the droplets off before entering the house. The lawman not meeting Jess' eyes was another clear indication that he'd been unsuccessful.

"Still hanging on," Jonesy answered.

"I wanna hear it, Mort," Jess felt the anger rising in his chest all over again. Ever since he had taken Jonesy's advice and stayed with Slim he'd shoved every furious emotion deep down inside where it couldn't be seen, but now that Mort was there, seeing the defeat on his face was enough to bring it back with vengeance. He bit the inside of his bottom lip and held his teeth there as he waited for Mort to reply.

"I'm sorry," Mort sighed gently, "I couldn't find him."

"You couldn't find him?" Jess' voice rose up in volume. "Didn't you even look?"

"I took the posse on a dozen different trails, followed every track and then some. We went all the way to Sodium Wells, up and around Baxter Ridge and several roads that led to Cheyenne and then back again. Once it started raining, there was nothing else to follow."

"So are you telling me you're giving up?" The tone was so cold that both Mort and Jonesy shivered.

"Out on the trail, for now," Mort answered, trying to keep his voice firm enough to reach through Jess' anger, but gentle enough to calm his raging soul. "But I've already sent over thirty wires to anywhere nearby that has a telegraph operator to be on the lookout for a man with a horse with Alamo's description."

Jess hadn't forgotten the promise he'd made to Slim, but he'd also made a promise to himself to get the man who'd put the bullet in his best friend's back. Even then when he blinked his eyes he could see the moment that he'd found Slim lying in the dirt, his blood pouring out of his back like water flowed from the pump and he felt all over that raging inferno that had ignited in his chest when he'd first saw the wound when he'd promised that he'd get the man responsible. Mort hadn't done the job as he'd hoped while he stayed by Slim's side, and now to him, it was becoming all too clear he would have to take control. That feeling of being torn in two hadn't just started up again, but Jess could have sworn that half of him had already been ripped apart. The dynamite that was ready to be detonated through his words was evidence enough of what he endured.

"Mort," Jess pointed towards the bedroom. "Slim's possibly dying, you know that right?" Jess paused only long enough to see Mort's head begin to nod. "The man that did this ain't just a horse thief, but he could turn into a murderer any minute. Not just any murderer either, but the murderer of Slim Sherman! Doesn't that get your blood boiling enough to get you back out there? Wanna feel mine? It's ready to explode."

"You need to look at this from a different side than what you're viewing," Mort answered, still keeping his voice surprisingly calm.

"The only side I see is Slim's!"

"Then you need to look a little harder."

"Don't tell me to do that," Jess not only sounded infuriated, but he looked the part as well, with his eyes narrowed enough that the blue was hard to see, the lines from his cheeks to his jaw pulled tight and the way his nostrils flared as he drew in each sharp breath. "Because if I do, I'll land my eyes right on the _lawman_ who was supposed to catch the man who shot Slim!"

When Jess accentuated Mort's title, he felt his body stiffen. Mort knew the words coming from Jess' mouth weren't how he really felt, but were just the heavy burden that he carried doing most of the talking, but his sarcastic jab towards his sheriff abilities drew a spark from Mort's eyes that he couldn't hide from Jess.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" Jess glared hard at Mort. "Maybe it's because that badge belongs on another."

"You're out of line, Jess," Mort said, his own voice starting to show the sound of angry tones. "You best clamp that jaw of yours shut before you say something you're going to regret later."

"I'll regret nothing," Jess continued. "Nothing I say, nothing I do, nothing else matters but Slim and if he dies," Jess took a sharp intake of air as the truth of his words literally caused him pain, "if he dies, there'll be no regrets when I track that murdering skunk down and make him pay for what he did, even if you have to throw me in jail after I'm through with him!"

"Jess," Mort reached his hand out to Jess. "You need to calm down, boy."

"Calm down?" Jess said, taking several quick breaths trying to dispel the intense grief that was threatening to overcome his outburst. "How can I?"

Mort saw the change in Jess' face and as he put his hand on Jess' arm, the tirade was over. Jess slumped his shoulders and Mort quickly draped his arm around them, offering his support and his strength. For a few minutes, his role as sheriff was put aside, letting the friend inside of him take over. This was what Jess needed more than anything, even if it wasn't readily admitted, but Mort was there to give it to the distraught man anyway.

"I'm sorry, Mort," Jess wiped at his eyes, even though nothing had dripped through them. "It's just this waiting is so dad-gum hard. I can't take it much longer, not knowing whether or not…" Jess' voice trailed off and he looked down at his boots knowing that if he looked at either Mort or Jonesy's moisture rimmed eyes he'd do the exact thing he'd been trying hard not to do. Cry.

"I know, Son," Mort said softly, feeling a fatherly emotion wrap around him, helping him give the comforting aid that Jess needed. He pushed away the angry words that Jess had thrown at him and drew Jess even closer to his side. "Take a deep breath and then slowly let it back out. It's all right to show your emotions, boy. It just shows how much you really care. Get some more air in your lungs. That's good. Now, is there anything else you've got to say?"

"No," Jess whispered his response, still not willing to let what little remained of his resolve crumble and then started to break away from Mort's comforting hold. "I gotta get back in there with Slim."

Jonesy held up the coffee pot as an invite after Jess returned to the bedroom, "coffee Mort?"

"Thanks, Jonesy," Mort eased himself into a chair and sighed deeply. "Jess is wound up tighter than I've ever seen him. Understandable, I know, but I get the feeling he's one step away from being the old Jess Harper again. I wish he'd let his true emotions out instead of bottling everything inside except his anger. It'd sure be good for him."

"I know," Jonesy handed the steaming cup to Mort and then sat down at the table across from him. "I'll tell you, Mort, that I'm getting scared."

"Of Jess?"

"Not so much of him, but of what he's capable of doing," Jonesy tapped his fingers on the table in a nervous fashion before continuing. "I'm scared that if Slim dies, we're gonna lose both of them."

Mort turned his head to look towards the bedroom door where he caught a glimpse of Jess anxiously pacing the room and slowly nodded his head. He understood Jonesy's fear, because truthfully, he feared the exact same thing. Jess could, and perhaps would kill the man that had shot Slim, legally or illegally was yet to be determined.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jess stood at the bedroom window, his eyes staring into the darkness of the night. He could see very little beyond the slight glow that the lamp provided outside of the pane, but he kept his gaze focused straight ahead, as if his attention was entirely focused on something specific that was out there. He did this to keep himself from seeing the picture that Jonesy and Andy made, although he knew the scene perfectly well without even looking. They were close to Slim's bunk, Jonesy standing next to Andy with both of his hands on the small shoulders, looking down at the still form on the bed together. It would tear another piece of Jess' heart to see them that way, and he didn't have many pieces left to be ripped.

There was a definite cold, desolate atmosphere in the room, marred only by the grief that emanated from the two bodies that huddled together by the bed. Jess could feel their mourning hearts from where he stood and since he was suffocating in his own feelings of sadness, likely they could feel his tortured heart too. The darkness pressed hard on Jess' eyes, but he kept them open, for in closing them for longer than just their normal blink, he saw too many scenes that haunted him. The sight of death would be hard to lose, even harder still, because this was his best friend.

Jess ran his hand across his thigh, surprised at how sweaty his palm had become. Nerves. He thought once his were made of steel, but ever since he'd found Slim in the road, he'd felt every one of them get challenged until they were on the verge of collapse. Despite everything that had happened and the myriad of emotions he'd faced, Jess was still that man with iron will, but he knew that losing Slim could completely destroy it. The fear of that loss had been knocking hard on his door, but as of that very moment, two entire days after the bullet went in, Slim still lived.

There had been no change. Jess had looked at Slim's body so frequently, lying there like a dead man, with only the slight movement as he took each breath, that its imagery when he turned away wasn't showing that little touch of life, but would pound in his temples of the opposite. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Jess felt as close to his breaking point as he'd ever felt in his entire life. It became worse a second later by the breaking of the silence in the room.

"Jonesy?" Andy's voice was quiet, but not quite a whisper, yet it still seemed loud amongst the oppressiveness. "What does Slim feel?"

Jess balled his hands into fists at his sides, for the first time that day wishing he was anywhere but in that room. Andy's question was innocent, coming from a young, unknowing mind whose only experience with a dying man was seeing Jack Slade's life come to an end right in front of him. Slade had suffered in his final moments rather brutally during the attack of Ben Leach and his gang, with at least three different bullet holes that took him down. Considering the affect that memory had on the boy, it wasn't surprising that Andy wondered if Slim was feeling the same agony. Jess stole a glance towards Jonesy when he heard him shuffle a foot before answering. In a way, he needed to know the answer too.

"Well," Jonesy swallowed a couple of times and then along with his shuffling, glanced up at the ceiling, using this pause to find the right words to respond with. "I suppose Slim doesn't feel a thing. He's not much different than sleeping, just so deep that he doesn't feel any pain. I've never been in his condition, so I guess I can't say for certain, but I'd imagine that he's peaceful enough."

"So he's not suffering?" Andy looked into Jonesy's eyes for reassurance.

"No, Andy," Jonesy shook his head, giving Andy's shoulders an extra squeeze. "Slim's not suffering."

"We're the ones doing that," Jess said under his breath, staring out into the night once more, but neither Jonesy nor Andy could hear his remark.

"Come along, Andy," Jonesy started to lead the boy out of the room. "Let's get those dinner dishes washed and put away because I know that neither one of us is gonna want to do them come morning."

Alone again in the room, Jess pulled away from the window and sat on his bunk. Slim's face was turned more towards the door, so all Jess could see of him was the back of his head and his hair, which Jonesy had been keeping combed even though he hadn't moved since they'd placed him in that position. Jess ran his hand through his own hair and down over his unshaven cheek, knowing that Slim probably looked more presentable than he did.

"I guess that's the way it'll always be, Pard," Jess sighed. He spoke quietly, not loud enough that Jonesy and Andy could hear his voice from the kitchen, but with enough volume that it wasn't near a whisper. "You'll always be clean and well put together, while I'm, well, let's put it this way, I'll always have my dirt stains and holes, and that goes a lot deeper than what's on my clothes, but right down into my very soul."

Jess needed to speak, needed to talk to Slim even if he couldn't hear his heartfelt words. He had to release the tension that had built up so heavily in his soul, let go of some of the emotion and dispel some of his fears. If he was going through this torment and Slim wasn't on his death bed, Slim would readily offer to listen. He felt it would be no different now.

"This is rough, Slim," Jess said, wiping his hand up and down his leg, not anymore to wipe his damp palm, but displaying his anxiety. "I wish it were me lying there instead. Of course, then you'd be sitting here doing the blubbering instead of me, but I still wish it were me. I woulda taken that bullet for you, Pard. I reckon I'm a bit more, dad-gum, what's that word again? Awn-or-y. If that's it, then I'm a bit more of that than you are, so if I'd taken that bullet instead, I'd probably already be back on my feet and outside doing them chores that ain't getting done. But at least you take my awn-or-ees in good spirits. Come to think of it, you've accepted all my unruly qualities without complaint. I ain't met many that'd do that."

Jess wasn't exaggerating that what he was going through was hard. He could have started a list at that moment of all of the difficult things he'd done in his life and still be adding to its incredible length the next day, but nothing could compare with Slim's battle and what Jess endured in watching it. The torrent that raged like a violent thunderstorm in his soul was so relentless and severe, he knew if there was such a list created, this fight for life would be placed at the very top, being the very worst.

Jess knew pain, knew suffering, knew loss, and especially the worst kind of loss, right in the heart with family. He had felt incomplete for many years until recently, and Jess knew the exact timeframe when everything started to change. It was the day Slim welcomed him into his family, when the broken pieces that were inside of him started to be put back together. Jess took a deep breath to steady his somewhat shaky voice, his emotions being so intense he wasn't used to the feeling in his throat, and then he started revealing his thoughts out loud again.

"You've filled a hole in my heart that's stayed awfully empty since I was fifteen and maybe even before that. I had to do a lotta growing up pretty quick and I s'pose I missed out on some of the good growing years by being filled with hate. I was saved a bit in what mighta been my own destruction, harboring all that hate while I was taught by some interesting characters. My first friends away from home, Dixie Howard and Christy, both men were mighty alike appearance-wise and nature, also much older. Father figures or big brother types I reckon. Kinda made a kid like me starry-eyed to those that had already walked the road I wanted to be on. But I ain't seen either in a long time and don't know if I ever will again. There've been some others, but to be honest, Slim, I didn't know what a friend really was until I found a friend in you. You've been far truer than anyone else I've ever known. I reckon because you're the greatest man I've ever known. You're far greater than me."

Jess couldn't help but hear Slim saying inside of his head a regularly used phrase in the Sherman house, "no argument there," and he nodded his head up and down in agreement. Considering all that Slim had done for him, there was no doubt in Jess' mind that Slim was genuine and true, especially since there had been many times in Jess' past that he himself had been anything but those same descriptive words.

"You took a chance on a wild, wanderlust cowboy with the name of Jess Harper. Did you know that there are men in Texas and beyond that feared that name? I met up with some mighty tough hard-cases, and likely those same men probably said the same about me, but even with what you knew about me, you didn't put one of those labels on me like I wore in my gunslinger days. It mighta taken a shove or a punch to see past our first howdy, but once our tempers cooled, there was only one thing you decided to see in me. The title you wanted me to wear wasn't renegade, gunfighter or villain, but friend. I sure hope I've lived up to it, Slim, for sure as the sunrise, you've lived up to yours. Slim, I've never been much for making speeches so I don't reckon most of what I'm saying has made a lotta sense, course you ain't hearing none of it anyway, but I'd like to think that you are."

Something began to happen in the room, but Jess could not see it. The natural color of skin began to brighten on what had been an ashen, expressionless face. Senses were returning, first sound, then smell, followed by pain, although not an agonizing stab of it, and finally, eyelids that had been closed for too long were scrunched together before fluttering slowly until they came open. At first there was a strange sense of disorientation, but then returned a voice, a familiar, friendly voice and his ears latched onto its sound, letting the strength and the honesty in the words empower his weakened body to continue to pull from the depths of darkness into the welcoming light that was his life.

"You're no ordinary man, Slim," Jess started again, a very slight tug on his lips brought one corner upwards. "Course neither am I. Maybe that's part of what makes us such good friends. Doggone though Slim, for everything you've done for me, I still don't know why. You've stood by me, strengthened me, carried me. You saw the best there was in me. You found good in a scoundrel like Jess Harper. Why? What is so special about me?"

"The good in you wasn't hard to see, Jess."

Startled, Jess fell from his bed and landed on the floor with a thud, knocking his head against the corner of his bunk as he landed. He put his hand to his head, wondering if he'd fallen asleep and had dreamed of Slim's voice. It had seemed so real though, and yet, why else would he have rolled out of bed?

"Jess?"

"Slim?"

"What?"

"Slim!" Jess was around Slim's bunk so fast that he tripped, dropping to his knees by the head of Slim's bed. He saw his best friend's eyes open, cheeks with color in them and a mouth that was turned up into a smile. "Jonesy, Andy, come quick!"

"Jess, has he, oh no, I can't even say it," Jonesy walked hurriedly from the kitchen through the bedroom door, afraid of the worst, but one look at Jess' face and Jonesy knew his fears could be erased. He then turned towards Slim and there was his boy, a grown man yes, but his boy, alive and smiling. "Slim!"

"Slim," Andy pushed between Jonesy and Jess, burst into tears and put his arms around Slim the best that he could. "You're alive, you're alive!"

"Thank God!" Jonesy bent down and wrapped his arms around Andy, his weathered cheeks having enough moisture fall down them that the teardrops landing onto the bedding that covered Slim was a mixture of both old and young. "Did you know you gave me the scare of my life?"

"Everything's going to be all right now, Andy," Slim said soothingly. "I'm here."

Jess backed up slowly, feeling the need to escape. He inched backwards until he sensed the front door behind him and then he turned and hurried through. Jess hadn't stepped outside very far when his knees gave way, his hands reaching and successfully clutching the far end of the hitching post that stood just off the porch as he went down to the dirt. His clasped hands began to shake, the quivering coursing up his arms and into his shoulders until his whole body quaked as the desperation that he'd held captive rushed from his body. He groaned as the pain that had gripped his chest seemed to pump through his veins until it found an exit wound in his bleeding heart, only stopping when his pulse slowed down as the trauma had no more need to intensify, but to begin the process of healing. Not a single tear fell down his face, but the intensity of his relief was so great, he felt as if he'd shed a million of them.

No one knew what he'd just experienced for it was an emotional journey that he chose to share alone, but after he took a deep breath into his lungs, Jess felt strong once more. He stood, gave a long look towards the east with his thoughts not far from the man that had shot Slim, and then he returned to the bedroom to give Slim a proper, "welcome back, Pard."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

At morning's first light, everything inside of the ranch house was quiet, although this time it wasn't the type of silence that was menacing, but this one would have been better described as serene. Before Slim had fallen asleep in the night, he'd requested from Jonesy and Jess that they turn him over to his back. He still was in this position now, his eyes closed, but his face showed more life than before. Jonesy was slumped in the chair beside Slim's bed, a hand resting under his lowered head. Jess, in a not quite either sitting or lying position on his bunk, rested his head on his pillow while one leg was draped over the side of the bed. Andy was curled up at the end of Jess' bed, looking more like a little child instead of a growing boy. None of them except Slim were in a comfortable position, but despite this, they were all content in their sleep.

Slim was the first to awaken and hearing nothing but gentle breathing sounds in the room he raised his head and shoulders as far as he could to see their slumber. He smiled, feeling contentment among his family members that had endured more than he had, even though he had almost died. They were the ones that had spent every minute during every hour throughout every day not knowing if the next second would bring his death. Slim had spent that same duration mostly unconscious without bodily pain or agonized thoughts. Knowing their suffering, but seeing the peace that now emanated through the room, Slim felt closer than ever before to Jonesy and Andy, but mostly, closer to Jess.

Jess started to wake, as if he had known Slim's thoughts were on him, his first reaction was to make sure Slim still breathed. Seeing the blue eyes wide open, Jess started to smile, but as his ears picked up on the sound of the morning stage coming, he reached over to tap Jonesy awake and then headed out to spread the news that Slim was going to pull through. It wouldn't take long once the wheels on the stage started rolling that the knowledge of Slim's survival would spread throughout the town and surrounding areas of Laramie.

The morning turned into afternoon at a quickened pace as Jess, Jonesy and Andy filled the hours with a large amount of chores that had piled up in several mounds while they had worried over Slim. Time had gone by as slowly as a snail traveled while they'd stood by Slim's side, but now that their hands were busy, the hours were gone faster than the breakfast that was eaten that morning. Near mid-afternoon after sending the eastbound stage on its way, Jess looked at the row of harnesses that needed repairing, but went into the house instead, for he needed to check on Slim.

"That you, Jess?" Slim called from the bedroom, although he hadn't needed to ask. He could tell by the stride and the clomping of his boots on the floor that it was Jess.

"Yeah, Slim," Jess dropped his hat on the nearest chair and strode into the bedroom. "You need something?"

"No, not really," Slim shrugged. He was sitting up taller in the bed than he had been earlier, resting his shoulders against the bulk of pillows Jonesy had placed behind him. "I wouldn't mind some company, though."

"Want me to ride into town and bring back some ladies?" Jess asked while rubbing his jaw to conceal his grin.

"Not that kind of company," Slim frowned, but Jess noticed the extra flush in his cheeks. "But it's good to see that you're still full of vinegar."

"What makes you think I ever stopped producing it?" Jess sat on his bunk and leaned slightly against his pillow, slightly matching Slim's posture.

"Oh," Slim raised an eyebrow, "instincts, I guess. I know you must have had a difficult time these past few days."

"Started to really get to me, for sure," Jess nodded his head honestly, "not knowing if you were gonna live or die."

"By the way, I need to thank you."

"For what?"Jess asked, brushing at some loose dirt that had come from his pants onto his bedding.

"For saving my life," Slim answered, getting Jess' full attention. "Jonesy told me how you took the bullet out."

"I kept the bullet," Jess said quickly, trying to avoid the return of his tender emotions. "You wanna see it?"

"No, I don't need to see it," Slim said with a playful irritation in his voice. "But if you want to hang onto it as a souvenir, that's fine."

"What's a souvenir?"

"Never mind."

"Work sure piled up the last few days," Jess stretched his legs out, enjoying the moments off of his feet. "Makes my muscles ache just thinking about all that's yet to do."

Slim noticed how Jess appeared to be avoiding a serious discussion, perhaps because it hadn't been long enough since they'd all been released from the strain of worry. Since Slim had spent the time on the other side of the picture Jess had viewed, he wanted to open everything up so that they both could understand what each battered body had endured. For Slim, the sooner the discussion was opened the better. For Jess, he wouldn't know until he asked.

"I'd like to talk about this, if you don't mind," Slim looked Jess in the eyes. He knew that it would be difficult for both of them to go over their harrowing experiences again, but he was mostly concerned about how Jess felt and wouldn't push him if he said no.

"It's all right, Slim," Jess nodded. "I ain't gonna make a scene. Where do you wanna start?"

"Honestly, Jess, I don't remember much on my end," Slim rubbed his forehead as if the motion would help put all the missing pieces together. "I remember riding towards the house and I kept having a feeling someone was watching me, but there wasn't anyone else on the road."

"I was sneaking along through the creek bottom trying to catch up with you around the crossing and I started feeling strange, too," Jess explained. "I guess we both knew something wasn't right. I couldn't help but beat myself up a bit that I shoulda been riding along with you on the road, though."

"That wasn't your fault, Jess," Slim tapped his chest with a finger. "I should have waited for you. But that's behind us now. Besides, we don't know what would have happened if we both were together on the road. Maybe we both would have gotten shot."

"Yeah," Jess nodded, "I hadn't really thought about that. I wouldn't have been much help for you if I woulda been back shot alongside of you."

"It was really strange, Jess," Slim rested his hand on his chest as he thought in silence for a moment before continuing. "I heard the rifle fire, but it was like I wasn't hit. My first thought was that it had been you that got shot. It was like my body and my mind weren't working together. My mind was worried about you, but my body was starting to go down. I saw the road coming at my face fast and I must have jerked quickly and landed on my back. Then I felt the pain and I knew it was me that had been shot. I looked up and saw nothing but bright light and I felt a calmness come over me. I must have blacked out a moment later. I never heard another sound and never saw the man who did it."

"He took Alamo," Jess said the words slowly, not sure if Jonesy had told him this information yet or not. Seeing the dark, haunting look that washed over Slim's face told him that he hadn't known. "I'm sorry, Slim."

"I thought there was something that Jonesy wasn't telling me," Slim rubbed his hand over his face. "Jonesy did say that Mort hadn't caught up with the man yet. Is that still true?"

"As far as I know there's been no news otherwise," Jess clenched his left hand into a fist and rubbed it into his right palm. "I promise he'll yet be found." Jess didn't add that it was his intention to do it himself.

"Promise," Slim said the word thoughtfully and then started rubbing his temples.

"What's the matter Slim?" Jess asked with alarm.

"Seems that I'm starting to remember some things," Slim paused his rubbing to look at Jess and in doing so, some of the fog that had been stagnant in his brain since he'd regained consciousness started to fade away.

"Yeah," Jess nodded, knowing exactly where Slim's mind was roaming to. His promised vow had aroused the remembrance of another promised vow. "I woulda kept it."

"I know, Pard," Slim smiled, "I knew I could count on you. You don't just say the word promise, but you take its meaning to heart. I couldn't go without hearing it though, you know, because I really felt like I was dying."

"You were," Jess said softly. "Doc Sweeney said you were at death's door and that it could go either way. Fortunately for us, it went life's way."

"It's a strange feeling to hover between life and death," Slim leaned his head farther back, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke. "There were times when everything would go from darkness to light and then I could almost see fuzzy images of Jonesy hovering over me, Andy crying, but I didn't always see you."

"I was here, Pard," Jess added quickly. "The only time I left your side was to fetch Doc Sweeney and when I was," Jess paused, moved his jaw back and forth contemplating whether or not he should add the other part, but decided it was best, "and when I was arguing with Mort."

"You fought with Mort?" Slim asked with eyebrows raised.

"Not with fists," Jess explained, "just with words, well, mostly my words."

"You shouted?"

"I reckon I mighta raised the roof a bit," Jess shrugged.

"Seems like I recall a shout breaking through the density of darkness," Slim paused, shook his head, then nodded, turning his eyes towards Jess. "Then before everything went back to that place of nothingness, I heard footsteps, back and forth, back and forth."

"I paced a hole in the floor," Jess pointed towards the imaginary hole in the floor. "Don't worry, I'll patch it up. Dad-gum though, Slim, I thought you were totally out cold. I reckon it's a good thing I didn't reveal any more of my deepest, darkest secrets."

"You mean you have more to tell than what I already know?" Slim asked, faking a fearful tone in his voice. Jess didn't answer, but the mischievous glint in Jess' eye was enough to start Slim laughing and Jess soon followed. When the laughter subsided, Slim sighed gently, looking back up towards the ceiling.

"Do you need to try to sleep again, Slim?"

"I am tired," Slim admitted, "but not just yet, as there's more I'd like to say."

"Go ahead then, Slim," Jess prodded.

"I didn't want to die, Jess, although I wasn't afraid of it. After you promised me you'd carry on here in my place, I thought that would be it and I'd soon pass. Time didn't exist for me at all, so in the few instances when I became more aware, I didn't know if it had been a minute after I talked to you, an hour, a day or even a week. My mind couldn't wrap around much, just little snatches here and there, like I remember your shout, your pacing and your presence. Just when I thought my life was about to slip away, something would pull me back. It was you, Pard. I can remember now, the more I dwell on it, that in those moments of blur, when the darkness wasn't so consuming, I kept thinking, I knew you'd take care of Andy and Jonesy like you promised, but I wondered, who would take care of you. There was one more time when I wasn't sure I was going to ever wake again, when I heard a voice. There were no distinctive words for a while, and I didn't know whose voice I was hearing, but the sound strengthened me, and as I awoke, it became clear that it was you. Jess, you didn't just carve that bullet out of me to save my life, but it was your being here, being _you_ with all of your stubborn characteristics, even your hollering, that brought me back, giving me back my life. Thank you, Jess. I owe you my life, in more ways than one."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Jess walked into Mort Cory's office, his face set in a serious expression as soon as he spotted the Laramie sheriff at his desk. He watched as Mort lifted his gaze to look at him and saw the alarm in the lines around his eyes. Likely Mort was concerned that this conversation could possibly turn out like their last. But Jess wasn't there to toss his stick of dynamite back in Mort's direction, but to find out from the lawman if there had been any new information on the telegraph wires about Slim's shooter. There wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Mort spread his hands out, feeling his own exasperation at the lack of evidence in the case. "I feel just as badly about this as you do. I'd like nothing better than to have the man that shot Slim behind bars, but he's simply nowhere."

"He's somewhere," Jess said, sitting down on the edge of Mort's desk. "I'm gonna find him."

"How are you planning on doing that?" Mort raised an eyebrow. "Alamo's trail is long gone. No one has responded to any telegrams or notices in the local papers about a stolen horse. There are no leads to follow, no description on the suspect, nothing."

"I don't care, Mort," Jess rubbed the knuckles on his right hand, as if it already hurt from putting that fist into the no-good's face that had nearly killed Slim. "That man shot Slim and he ain't gonna get away with it, even if I have to search the Territory piece by piece and inch by inch until I find him."

"All right, Jess," Mort nodded, "I know there's no use arguing with you. What does Slim say about it?"

"I haven't told him yet," Jess looked quickly down towards his boot that swayed slightly as it dangled off the edge of Mort's desk.

"Don't you think that's because you know that Slim will tell you not to go?" Mort knew he'd said something that had made an impact by the way Jess' jaw worked back and forth. He waited a full minute for Jess to answer, but when there was only silence, Mort shook his head slightly and then breathed an inaudible sigh as he switched the subject slightly. "How is Slim today? I saw Doc Sweeney come back in town this morning and figured he'd been out at your place."

"Doc says Slim's gonna make a full recovery. Needs to rest for a while and stay off his feet, but he's outta the woods." Jess paused for a moment, swinging his foot a couple of more times as he waited for his throat to feel less tight before he continued. "Doc also said Slim's like a miracle and that he shouldn't have lived. He's alive, Mort, I thank God for that, believe me, but it doesn't change a thing inside of me in how I feel. The man that did this to Slim pulled the trigger to kill him. Even though the final result for Slim wasn't death, the fire inside of my gut won't stop burning until the guilty man is behind bars or dead."

Mort stood, walked beside Jess and put his hand on Jess' shoulder. "I understand, Jess. I wish you wouldn't, because it could be a dangerous road to travel since you have nothing to go on. I won't stop you, although I'd like to give you two pieces of advice if you'd let me."

"I'm listening."

"One," Mort looked Jess in the eye as he spoke, "talk to Slim about this before you go. And two," Mort swallowed, taking the time before he continued to choose his words carefully. "Your best friend almost died. Don't do anything to have your best friend go through the same suffering you just experienced."

"I'll do my best, Mort," Jess nodded as he shook Mort's hand and then turned to leave. "I'll see you sometime, I reckon."

"Good luck, Jess," Mort sighed as the door shut, leaving him alone in his office. He reached for the hat that was on the peg by the door and then went out himself, back to the telegraph office where he'd spent most of his recent afternoons in hopes that a wire would come in that would point a clearer direction towards the man that had shot Slim, but like all the other days, one still didn't come.

Jess arrived back at the ranch after dinner had already been put on the table, but instead of dropping in his seat at his plate, he went into the bedroom and sat down next to Slim. He was propped up in bed, his color looking even better than when Jess had left earlier in the day, holding a bowl of soup in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"I hope you're not planning on feeding me," Slim said wryly. "Jonesy already attempted that and I said no."

"You're too big to play baby games with, Slim," Jess answered, bringing a laugh through Slim's lips, but when Jess didn't join in, Slim sensed there was something on his friend's mind.

"What are you trying to avoid telling me?" Slim set the bowl of soup aside, keeping his focus on Jess.

"I'm going after him."

Slim didn't have to ask who, he already knew, and he even knew the why, but he had to ask it aloud anyway. "Why, Jess?"

"He shot you, Slim," Jess answered almost harshly. "That's enough reason right there."

"But his trail is colder than ice," Slim pointed towards the wall as if he was pointing at the invisible trail. "Mose stopped in for a chat during his run today and said that there's been no talk anywhere up or down the line about the man or Alamo."

"I've followed cold trails before," Jess said plainly. "This one's no different than them others."

"You don't have to do this, Jess," Slim's face took on a look of concern. "I appreciate you wanting to get the man, but I'm alive, Jess, you don't have to go anymore."

"You're wrong, Slim," Jess looked Slim in the eyes, "I do have to go."

"But Jess," Slim started, trying to find a good reason to change his mind, but knowing Jess, one wouldn't come easy.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?" Jess asked, the words bringing a clear spark to Slim's eyes.

"Yes," Slim admitted after a moment of silence, "you know I would."

"Well then," Jess gently slapped Slim on the arm, "we understand each other. I best get some food before Jonesy dumps mine to the critters. I'll leave at sunup so don't be surprised when you wake and my bunk is empty."

Slim was awake with the sun's arrival. He turned his head to look towards Jess' bed to find it empty at the same moment he heard the hooves of Traveler riding away. Slim had a strange feeling wash over him as the hoof beats drew quieter and he breathed a deep sigh, knowing it might be a long time before he'd see his partner again.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jess stopped Traveler over the exact place where Slim had fallen. Rain, stagecoaches, the posse and other things had touched the ground several times since then, but Jess saw the details that other eyes would never be able to see, because he'd been there to witness the beginning. He saw the blood, although now it wasn't much more than a dark, haphazard mark on the dirt, but he saw it, red and menacing as it was on the day it happened. He saw a set of hoof prints, although these weren't the same ones, but in his eyes he saw it fresh and put Alamo's body in the prints, riding at top speed to flee the scene. He gave Traveler the command to follow and soon was about the same pace as Alamo had been forced to take.

Nearly a mile up the road, Jess slowed his mount to a stop, giving his faithful companion an encouraging pat on the neck for his unstrained gallop. Where they now stood, there was somewhat of a crossroads, with an old path that cut through some trees to a group of hills and peaks that spanned a few miles of a northerly pattern to one side, and the main roadway that would eventually join with another heavily used route towards Cheyenne on the other. Any man on the run wasn't likely to use a regular road for long, which made Jess turn his mount to higher ground.

Jess stayed up in the backcountry for several days, sometimes going forward, sometimes backtracking, but all the while ever vigilant and alert to whatever track, even the faintest hoof print that could possibly be a lead to get him to the man that had shot Slim. In trying to keep following what might have been the best road to travel on, Jess set his mind backwards to a time when he followed the lesser known paths, letting the once perfected outlaw schemes of his past push forward until he became that man once more, perhaps not completely, but enough that he could use every ounce of his abilities to his advantage.

After a week on the hunt, Jess set up camp earlier than he usually did. The only other one that knew how tired he felt was Traveler, and he probably was glad for the longer rest for the same reasons of his master. There hadn't been a single night since he'd left the ranch as he rested his head against his saddle that he didn't think of Slim and see the raw images all over again. The blood on his shirt from where he'd securely held Slim, the blood on his hand from removing the bullet and the blood on the ground, on the very road that had led him to where he camped all weren't far from his vision when he would close his eyes. It had made sleeping difficult, as his body wanted to run from the memories and continue onward towards the man who'd caused all of this agony. Finally on this early night, Jess let his eyes close and he slept, the dreamless hours restoring his body to their normal strength and stamina.

Into the next afternoon, Jess came upon a rockslide that appeared to have been caused by an avalanche either during the past winter or the one before, but it made any further attempt at heading higher in the hills impossible. Jess saw the signs of a wildlife trail leading past the slide and although he knew a surefooted deer would have made the route easily, he trusted Traveler's footing to get him around the jutting boulders in his way. Once safe below the slide, Jess started to turn towards the south, but because Traveler was listening to something to the north, his ears pricking in constant attention, Jess let his mount decide. They only traveled another half of a mile before Jess' own senses kicked in.

Jess sat still atop Traveler, looking down into a hollow where a curl of smoke came from a cabin that was partially built into a hillside. Normal, hardworking people often built in the most obscure places, Jess knew that, but he also knew that it was in these same types of places where outlaws often found refuge. Jess looked for any sign of movement, but the only sign of life he saw was a couple of horses swishing their tails in a corral. He nudged Traveler to begin the descent, his hand close to his gun as he slowly approached the cabin.

Jess called out a greeting when they came to a stop, but there wasn't a returned answer. Jess turned in the saddle, searching with his eyes for any sign of an occupant. The curtains on the windows went unmoving, the door was shut tight, the front of the barn was barred closed, although the side that was attached to the corral was opened, but other than the two horses he could see, there wasn't any sign of life in sight.

"Maybe no one's home," Jess dismounted, patting Traveler on the neck. "You need some water, don't you, Son?"

Jess led his mount to the water trough that was half in the corral, half out, and cupped his hand in the water to wash the grit from his face but before Traveler bent his head down to take in his fill, his ears pricked forward and he let out a welcoming call. It was promptly returned from inside of the barn. Jess' head was up as fast as if he'd been called out to draw as the recognition was made. Alamo!

Jess leapt over the railings of the corral and ran in through the opened side of the barn where in the closest stall to where he stood was Slim's horse, looking as strong and healthy as if he were standing in his own stall where he belonged back at the ranch. Jess reached his hand to the animal and gave him a gentle rub behind the ear, noticing at the same instant that all of Slim's gear was stored nearby, even his rifle.

Jess took a deep breath, his thoughts beginning to churn inside of his head in a rapid fashion that this could be the home of the man who'd shot Slim. The memories and images that haunted him made a return in daylight, bringing the intensity of his need for revenge to rise to its highest level. He stepped back out of the stall, debating his next move when he heard the sound of boots crunching loose hay on the ground.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Jess turned around in one easy motion, his hand drawing his gun in a flash, pointing it towards the man who'd asked the question. His finger, always ever ready to pull the trigger, came dangerously close to firing, but his eyes took in the scene fast enough to relay the message to his gun hand that the man across from him was not armed at all. Jess had the hammer released a moment later, but didn't drop the gun back into its holster. If this man really was the one he was after, he knew he would need it again soon.

"I asked you a question, mister," the man said, slowly backing up with his hands raised.

"I ain't gonna answer, but I'll ask you one instead," Jess motioned with his head towards Alamo. "Why do you have this horse?"

"That one?" The man pointed to Alamo, although there wasn't another horse in the barn. "He's mine."

"You're a liar," Jess felt the surge of anger rush through his body as he dropped his gun back in his holster and took the steps between him and the man swiftly. His hands were on the man's collar, shoving him forcefully into the barn wall seconds later. "Tell me the truth!"

"I'm not lying," the man squirmed under Jess' grasp, but there was nothing he could try to do that would be able to release himself from the powerful grip that had him pinned tightly to the wall. "That horse really is mine."

"Then where'd you get him?" Jess snapped the question hard in the man's face.

"I bought him a couple of days ago," the man coughed in the middle of his response, "I paid $150 for everything, horse, gear, rifle, all of it."

"From who?" Jess tightened his grip even harder.

"I don't remember his name."

"You're lying," Jess released the man and watched him slump to the floor. "Get up! I don't normally hit a man already on the ground, but I'm willing to make an exception if you don't start telling the truth!"

"I think I'm safer down here," the man answered, wiping his sweaty brow.

"I won't say it again," Jess' hand hovered over his gun. "Get up."

The man pulled himself to his feet, keeping one hand balled in a fist near his mouth. He'd never been much of a fighter, and looking at the seething man in front of him, he guessed that if one was started, the stranger would be able to whip him pretty quick. Knowing that, he didn't even want to try, and he was still afraid to divulge the entire truth. "Look, mister, can't we talk this out? Let's swap names, have a shot of whiskey, maybe more, but let's just take a step backwards. No horse is worth getting shot over."

"A man already was," Jess answered slowly, keeping his stance the same.

"What are you talking about?"

"That horse belongs to my partner, Slim Sherman," Jess watched as the man's face started taking on a puzzled expression, making Jess get the sense that this man was not the one he really was after. Even with that knowledge, his anger wasn't subsiding. "He was shot by a horse thief."

"I didn't know I was trading for a stolen horse," the man said rapidly, his sentence almost sounding like it was one long, extended word.

"Trade?" Jess had his hands back on the man's collar, tightening the fabric around his neck with his grip. "You said a minute ago that you bought him. Now it's trade? Start telling the truth or so help me I'll turn you inside out and every other way except loose."

"All right, all right," the man sputtered as Jess released him. He rubbed his hands around his neck for a few seconds before he continued. "A man came here with that horse, plumb tuckered out, and said he wanted to swap. Well, none of my mounts are as fine as that one, so I decided to make the trade since it looked like I would come out on top of the bargain. I figured I could eventually sell the gear and horse later on at a higher cost. I like to make a good deal, who doesn't?"

"And it never occurred to you that the reason this fellow needed to trade horses so badly was because he was a criminal who'd shot a man in the back to steal his horse?"

"You know, I'm not the best judge of character," the man shrugged. "Besides, I was on the wrong side of the law a few times myself, so why shouldn't I help someone that's been in my same business?"

"What's your name?" Jess asked, trying to turn the conversation slightly to avoid belting the man across the face.

"Vinton Ames."

"All right, Ames," Jess kept his tone level as he spoke. "I ain't gonna forget your role in this, but I might forget to mention it to my friend who just so happens to be the sheriff of Laramie if you say nothing but truth from this moment on."

"I can do that," Ames licked his lips nervously. He might not be currently wanted, but there were some things if brought out in the open that he'd have to spend several nights in a cell for. "What else do you want to know?"

"His name," Jess ground out the words through his clenched teeth.

"I said I don't remember."

"You better try real hard," Jess threatened with his fist balled tightly in front of Ames' face.

"Hold on, let me see," Ames rubbed the back of his head. "Seems like he only mentioned it once and I've never been good with names. His first name started with an L, but the last, I know it was short, yeah, I think it sounded like craft or staff, that's it I got it, Taft."

"Taft," Jess said the name as he etched it into his mind. "You sure you can't remember the first?"

"Just that it starts with an L," Ames shrugged. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Not quite," Jess frowned, "but I reckon I gotta take it. What about the horse and which way did he go when he left?"

"It was a bay like the one you've got," Ames pointed through the open door towards Traveler, making Jess turn to look towards his own mount, feeling slightly annoyed that the horse Taft took off on would match most of the other horses in the Territory. Too bad Ames hadn't had a barn full of paints. "The one he's on isn't quite as tall and muscular and no star or blaze. He left on the north trail towards Montana. Are you through with me now?"

"Almost, there's just one more thing," Jess grabbed Ames by the arm and hauled him closer to Alamo. "If this horse ain't here when I return, I'm gonna finish what I started here today and I'll be a lot less friendly doing so. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Ames nodded his head up and down repeatedly. "He'll be right here. I'll take good care of him, for sure."

"Good," Jess gave Alamo a reassuring touch and then with one last cold stare towards Ames, Jess walked out of the barn and topped Traveler, ready to resume his search. With a name and a direction, he felt confident that he'd catch the man he was after. It was only a matter of time.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Jess was somewhere in Montana Territory, exactly where, he didn't know. He'd followed a road, at least he'd thought it was a road, until the faint tracks literally turned into nothingness. Without a trail to guide him, he had pointed Traveler due north and sometime before the last ray of light dipped over the western horizon, he'd crossed the border.

Now the day was well into the afternoon and he hadn't seen any sign of settlement, homestead, town, road, or anything. He had traveled throughout Montana before, but the Territory was large, spreading out for many miles east and west and these parts were all new to him. Jess didn't want to consider himself lost, especially since he knew he could always backtrack and return to ground he'd already traversed after he left the Ames place, but he couldn't help but feel that he'd gone off course somewhere, perhaps when he'd been traveling in the dark. He stopped Traveler, looking at the vast landscape around him, wondering if he should go back.

Suddenly a chill crept up Jess' backbone and his hand was on his gun as he knew he was no longer alone. He was aware that there could be bands of Sioux in the area, but his instincts weren't kicking in for Indians. Whatever had set off his senses had made a noise. If it had been Indian's, there would have been no sound. Jess continued to listen, strangely taking his mind back to the moment before Slim was shot when just like now, his entire body was on high alert. He heard it again and nudged Traveler in its direction.

The closer he got to the sound, the more he recognized what it was. He moved Traveler steadily through the course, dry grasses until he came upon the base of a hill, and rounding the corner coming towards him was a wagon. He'd heard the wheels turning, but he'd also heard a distinct voice and as the team of horses came closer, he understood why. The wagon was occupied by an older couple, the woman, nagging the poor man by her side, to "go faster", then "go slower", and finally, "better not stop for the stranger or you might get us robbed."

"Howdy," Jess lifted his hat when the man, ignoring the woman's concerns, halted the wagon.

"You lost?" The woman looked at Jess with squinted eyes, but didn't give him much time to answer before she started up again. "Speak up, boy, I can't hear you. Who are you anyway?"

"My name's Jess Harper, Ma'am," Jess let a smile turn a corner of his mouth upwards at the pruned face of the woman. "I thought I mighta been lost, but now that I came across this road, I reckon it must be heading somewhere."

"It sure does, Mr. Harper," the woman pointed in the direction they were heading. "That way's our farm, back that way's that two-bit, good-for-nothing, not-on-the-map town of Ragweed."

"Ragweed?"

"That's what I said. You look too young to be having trouble with your hearing."

"Thank you, Ma'am, but my hearing's fine," Jess tipped up his hat with a finger. "By the way, I didn't hear you mention your name."

"Oh," the woman's cheeks blushed slightly as she answered, "Philomena Morrison. This here's my husband, Oliver."

"Nice to meet you," Jess nodded, "thanks for the information."

"You're welcome," Mrs. Morrison attempted to smile. "If you don't mind my saying so, Mr. Harper, you look a might poorly. Don't you eat well?"

"Not so much lately, Ma'am," Jess admitted. "Maybe I'll find someplace in town to get some food instead of the trail grub I've been gnawing on."

"The only thing you'll get in that dingy hole-in-the-ground is a long stay in an outhouse," Mrs. Morrison sat up a little straighter and pointed a thumb in her direction. "I happen to be the best cook in the entire area. If you get sick of Ragweed, and that might mean literally, come on out to our place and I'll fix you up real good."

"Thanks for the offer Ma'am," Jess tipped his hat again, ready to put Traveler in motion towards Ragweed, "if my business doesn't take me much farther, I just might do that."

Mrs. Morrison's description of Ragweed wasn't all that exaggerated. It wasn't much to look at, especially when the first thing to see in riding in were two buildings that looked like they'd been partially burned to the ground but no one ever took the time to completely demolish the remains. There was a saloon, but of course, all towns no matter how small and out of the way had at least one. Jess noted a sheriff's office, but considering the barely attached shingle that bore the name "Slocomb" that swung in the wind over the door, it might have been unoccupied. A general store sat at the far end of the town, its outside display looking like it had been untouched for a lengthy time as some of it had been knocked to the ground, the dust from the street covering everything in a fine layer of silt.

Jess had been in towns such as this before and he knew that these were the types of places where outlaws liked to congregate. Even if a sheriff did preside over the town, with its unordinary name and centered in the middle of nowhere, there was a high possibility that Ragweed was a prime location for a hideout. Jess felt the tension start to rise in his chest as he hoped that it was a hideout for a man named Taft.

He went into the saloon, the scent of cigar smoke and whiskey burning his throat as he entered. Over a dozen men lingered around various tables, playing cards, drinking excessively, cuddling women, or passed out cold in a corner. Jess had every detail memorized before he even stepped up to the bar. Pulling his hat off, Jess rubbed the sweat from his face with his sleeve and then slapped a coin onto the top of the bar.

"Whiskey," Jess requested and gave a slight nod in thanks when the bartender filled a glass a few second later.

As he poured the fiery liquid down his throat in one shot, Jess lifted his eyes to see his reflection in a broken mirror behind the stacked empty glasses and bottles with various levels of booze in them. His face, still pinched from the taste of the whiskey, made him look rougher than what he felt with its several days of stubble across his cheeks and chin. Jess rubbed the excess moisture from his lips and tossed another coin to the bartender.

"Know anyone named Taft?" Jess asked when the bartender stood in front of him, topping his glass.

"Heard someone mention that name the other day," the bartender answered, not even paying much attention to Jess as one of the saloon girls came up to the other end of the bar with the need for another full bottle. He turned away from Jess to fulfill her request.

"And…" Jess prompted, his agitation rising with the volume of his voice.

"Didn't lay eyes on him though," came the answer from the inattentive bartender.

Jess scowled, pushed his glass full of whiskey back and forth between his hands and watched the distorted activity of the room in the mirror. Anybody here could have the knowledge that he was seeking, maybe one of the girls had entertained Taft, but then again, each and every one of them could give him the same answer as the bartender. He didn't have the time to push everyone against a wall like he'd done with Ames and if there really was a sheriff occupying the run down office across the street, he didn't want to get tossed in a cell for doing too much unfriendly persuading, so he stayed still, eyes on the mirror, watching and waiting. His wait ended up being very short.

He saw the reflection of a man take a fanciful step through the swinging saloon doors like he was entering a celebration in his honor. He strode towards a table full of card players and slapped one of the men on the back and said something Jess couldn't distinguish, but it was the comment in return that made Jess stiffen.

"You must be my good luck charm, Larry," the card player whooped as he tossed a handful of money in the air. "Best hand I've had all day."

Jess studied the man through the mirror, and even though where he was standing was right over the jagged crack which made some of his features blurred, Jess noted every detail. Larry was a tall man, muscularly built with broad shoulders and a face that looked every part of an outlaw with his narrow eyes that looked down over a straight nose that rested above a hard, square jaw. Ames had never given him a description of Taft, but here was a man that had a name that started with an L who just so happened to be in the same town that the bartender mentioned a Taft being around a couple of days before and looked like a face that belonged on a wanted poster somewhere. Jess continued to stare at Larry through the mirror, every single one of his instincts reaching out in sharp prongs towards the man's reflection, knowing this could be the one.

"Wanna join the game, Taft?" The confirmation came from the same man who had called Larry his good luck charm.

Jess gripped his glass of whiskey tightly, growing tighter with each rapid heartbeat as the intensity of revenge reached its peak with the bursting of the glass in his hand, the whiskey spilling over the counter in a puddle full of glass shards. The bartender turned to look at Jess crumble the remains of the glass in his hand onto the bar, as he too had heard the name of Taft spoken and he knew by Jess' actions there was about to be trouble. Jess turned around slowly to put his eyes fully on the man who'd shot Slim, his breathing increasing as the hostility towards Taft burst through his chest.

"Not this time," Taft declined the game. "Just came to tell you that I won't be in tonight. I have some business to tend to later."

"You have some business to tend to right now," Jess said under his breath, rubbing his knuckles as he watched Taft start to move towards the exit. Jess took a step in that direction himself, for he wasn't about to let Slim's shooter walk away.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Jess stood between the saloon's doorway and Larry Taft. He forced his hand to not hover too closely to his gun, although he would have readily admitted that he would have liked to have it pointed at Taft instead of securely positioned in his holster. He wasn't there to shoot Taft down like this man had done to Slim, but if the power of his weapon had been in Jess' hand, the temptation to pull the trigger if provoked one step further might not have been easily dismissed.

"Who are you?" Taft broke the silence, but nothing would break the thick tension that was between them, felt by all in the room.

"You could call me Payback, for you're about to get reimbursed. You could call me Revenge, for it fills my whole being. You could call me Nightmare, because you're about to have one. You could even call me Vengeance, because this time, it's mine." Jess' voice spoke like it was laced with ice, causing a chill to crawl up every spine throughout the room, even his own. But his eyes were like fire, the color turning to a smoldering blue that was ready to start an inferno from the fuel that was in place right in front of him.

Taft shook his head slowly, as if he didn't understand, but everything about the way he stood, the look on his face, the way his eyes kept darting back and forth and the way he moved his hands displayed that of a guilt-ridden man. He knew what he had done. He knew that there would be retaliation, but perhaps he just hadn't figured it coming so soon.

"I have no quarrel with you," Taft said, creating another spark of anger in Jess' eyes. The fire was about to get started. "Just let me walk on out of here and we can go on our way."

"Not a chance," Jess shook his head, desperately trying to keep his hand off of his gun. He watched Taft's every move, but so far his hand stayed far enough away from his gun that Jess didn't think he intended on using it. But his fists were another story. Jess had to put them in action to prevent him from drawing his gun. When Taft took an awkward step to try to move around Jess, he let his fury go into his fists as he leapt on top of Taft.

Jess had Taft flailing backwards at the first slap across the cheek but with a returned kick in the abdomen that sent Jess reeling backwards into the middle of the card game, Jess soon knew that Taft wasn't an amateur in fighting. Jess had his hands full from the moment the first punch was placed in his jaw, but Jess was stronger, more resilient and carried enough hostility in his veins to get back up the moment he went down. Jess grabbed Taft by the legs, hoisted him into the air and threw Taft against the wall, the boards behind him bending from the blow. Momentarily dazed, Taft stayed still on the ground, giving Jess time to look behind him to see that none of Taft's friends seemed to be interested in joining in on the fun. It didn't matter to him either way if the group of men that watched the fight from their safe positions decided to jump into the fray because Jess had enough stamina to take on the entire bunch. It was for Slim, he'd fight the entire world if he had to.

His breathing started to return to a more regular rhythm as he waited for Taft to retake his position, but once the man returned to his feet, he lunged at Jess with force, bringing Jess' mouth gasping for air as both bodies slammed into the floor. Jess reached for Taft's neckerchief and tugged hard, bringing a raspy cough from the man's throat, giving Jess the opportunity to roll out from underneath Taft's body. He sprang to his feet but a boot found his knee and Jess sprawled backwards once more into the table of cards, sliding down onto the ground with a pile of coins clattering down over his head and onto the floor.

Taft's hands were on his collar and Jess felt his body completely leave the ground. If there had been nothing backing Jess' reasons for fighting this man, at this point in the battle Jess would likely be about to lose, but Jess had Slim on his side, and all that he needed to put his mind on was seeing Slim's lifeless body on the ground and know that Taft was the man responsible to regain the strength to win. Jess dropped a clasped fist hard down on Taft's shoulder which instantly released Jess from Taft's hands. He landed on the ground with a thud, but before Taft could throw another punch in his direction, Jess barreled into Taft and they went airborne, crashing through the swinging saloon doors hard enough that half of the door went with the two bodies into the street.

Taft was dazed and lay on the ground, a hand on his head as Jess stood to his feet. The hot air going into his lungs burned with each breath, but Jess wouldn't show any sign of exhaustion or defeat on his face. He felt powerful despite the battering he'd taken and he was ready for more. He took one more deep breath and ground out a command through his clenched teeth to Taft, "I ain't through with you yet. Get off the ground!"

"I don't even know you," Taft sputtered as blood gushed from a corner of his mouth.

"You didn't know the man you shot, either," Jess glared hard at Taft as the man pulled himself to his feet. Jess saw something in Taft's face, a darkening of the eyes, a firming of the jaw and it spelled the guilt that Jess knew was there. He saw Taft ball his hands into fists and did the same with his own.

Jess was ready for Taft to spring back on top of him, wanting to put his fists back into flesh, but suddenly Taft stiffened and Jess saw his hand twitch. He was going for his gun. The seconds seem to freeze in the air as Jess saw the gun come out its holster. The aim was made, but Jess' skilled reflexes were no match. Jess drew and fired, the bullet from his gun hitting its target, bringing a grunt through Taft's clamped jaw as he hit the dirt. Death came quickly after.

Jess released the air that he'd held in his lungs and with it came the pent up emotion of revenge as it rushed from his body like the air that exited through his mouth and nose. It was over. Taft was dead. The man who'd nearly put Slim in his grave would soon be fitted for one of his own. Even though Jess could claim victory in this battle, there weren't any trumpets sounding in jubilee. A man was dead because of his hand, there was no rejoicing to be done.

Jess stepped back as a few people started to surround the fallen man, but no one threw a finger in his direction as being guilty. There had been enough people poking their heads through doorways that had seen Taft draw first that knew Jess hadn't done anything illegal. Jess discovered a moment later that Ragweed did have a sheriff in town, as a man wearing a star came out of nowhere and knelt down beside Taft, confirming to Jess and to all listening ears what he already had known that Taft was dead.

The sheriff introduced himself as Slocomb and only wanted Jess' name in return. He didn't question Jess' actions, not even pointing out the fact that they'd been involved in a hefty brawl only minutes before, but seemed more concerned as to who was going to take care of the body. Jess concluded that with the exception of the poker playing friend in the saloon, Larry Taft had been an unknown amongst Ragweed's townspeople, being remembered as just another drifter passing through.

His mission over, Jess left Ragweed behind him near sundown, ready to return to Laramie, not to boast of his achievement of killing the man he was after, but to carry on beside Slim without any shadows beside them. With the anger not fueling his body any longer, Jess felt everything on the inside begin to return to normalcy with a sharp pang of hunger being the first to return. As he traveled farther out of town, Jess reached for his pack of supplies to find his meager amount of food had been depleted. He knew he could always hunt for something to eat, but Jess didn't want to take the time, so he kept his horse in a straight line on the rarely used road outside of Ragweed to see if Philomena Morrison's statement of being the best cook around was true.

Jess, mopping up every last drip of gravy from his plate with a fresh slice of bread, turned his face to a pleased Mrs. Morrison, agreeing with her declaration as he voiced his compliments. Exclaiming over the flavors of her fare wasn't enough for Mrs. Morrison's penchant for talk and inquisitive mind as she vocally pointed out that since he was sitting at her table and eating her food, she deserved the right to hear his story. Since the welts on Jess' face had swollen with an array of darkened colors, he knew there'd be no hiding the fact that he'd been in a fight, so between Jess' heaping mouthfuls, the entire truth of his venture from Slim getting shot until the moment he sought her food came through Jess' lips and into her eager ears.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Anxious to get home, Jess started out early the next morning on the homeward trail. By afternoon's peak of heat, Jess rode continuously for several miles with the distinct feeling that someone was following him, but every time he turned, there was no one there. Either he was getting too fidgety from being on the trail for too long and was just imagining the presence, or if there was someone out there behind him, they were very good at staying hidden. He peered over his shoulder once more, still seeing the same results and urged Traveler onward.

If he had gauged the distance correctly, since he was riding towards the Ames' place from a different direction than when he'd first stumbled across it, he could have been slightly off, but he figured he'd arrive at the desolate farm the next morning and retrieve Alamo. Home would still be two or three days beyond that, but he knew it couldn't come fast enough. He stretched his back in the saddle, his muscles solid and strong, but they still felt the twinge of being glued to the saddle for too many days on end, and only having a hard ground beneath him for each of those nights as well.

Riding for another hour, Jess could start to hear the sound of a waterfall. He had spent the majority of the day riding high in the hills and if he was coming upon a main watershed, a falls might indicate a place where he might be able to descend to lower ground, which was where he'd need to be to get back on the trail to get to Ames and Alamo. He led Traveler through a narrow path, feeling the mist of the waterfall being blown on the wind before he actually laid eyes on the sight. It felt good to his skin, for the day had become miserably hot.

Jess dismounted near the falls, keeping Traveler a safe distance from the edge. The drop was long, with the water spilling in a hurry to get to the swirling mass of foam down below where it eventually started to wind its way to sights unseen from where Jess stood. From his vantage point, there weren't many options to take a horse down except on the other side. If he really wanted to find the path to lower ground here, he'd have to take Traveler across the water. Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Jess stood still in contemplation for a minute, before taking the reins in hand to walk Traveler through the water.

The roar of water was loud in his ears as he walked through the width of the river with Traveler dutifully walking behind him. There was no other sound to be heard except the pummeling of the droplets as they bounced on the rocks all the way down to the bottom, muting out any other noise that should have been heard that would have alerted Jess to danger. He planted each foot firmly in the riverbed as he encouraged his mount to do the same, taking one steady step at a time until they reached the other bank. The rocks were slicker on that side and he slipped, going down to one knee. He turned to face Traveler, who obediently didn't balk at his master's stumble, and in doing so, Jess failed to see a man step from the brush behind him. Back on dry ground, Jess put his foot in the stirrup to mount, but a cold voice from behind him froze him to the spot.

"I've been following you."

Jess hadn't been wrong, but the realization of that fact didn't bring his hand to pat himself on the back. Jess slowly turned around to face the man who belonged to that voice, a voice that he noted sounded very familiar and when he saw the man standing, gun in hand pointed right at his chest, he inhaled a sharp breath at what he saw.

"See a ghost, Harper? Yeah, I know you're name. I trust that you know mine."

"Taft," Jess answered quietly, his eyes absorbing every inch of the man across from him. The stature was the same, broad and muscular, the eyes were identical, the nose was straight and narrow, but the chin, although still squared, was chiseled different with a scar slashing through one side, making the mouth curl up even more sinister than the other. Jess shook his head, trying to clear his confusion, but before the cobwebs were removed, the answer he was seeking was spoken.

"You killed my brother, Larry," Taft spoke with venom in his voice. "We weren't twins, if that's what you're wondering, just both spitting images of our Pa. I'm his big brother, Levi. Now you're going to pay for what you did to him."

"Wait a minute, your brother…" Jess started but didn't get far before his words were cut off.

"My brother didn't do a thing," Levi shouted. "You got it all wrong, Harper. Larry didn't shoot your friend in the back. I did."

Jess was already standing as straight as he could, but when the admission came from Levi's mouth, he somehow stood up even taller. The anger he thought was gone resurfaced and his eyes drew into slits and his hands balled into fists at his sides. He was finally seeing the man who had almost killed Slim, but now that he was face to face with him, with a gun pointed in his direction, he was seemingly as helpless as Slim had been.

"Why did you shoot Slim Sherman?" Jess asked, not that any reason would change his thoughts on revenge, but he at least wanted to know the truth to why Slim almost died.

"I was running from a robbery and murder I'd committed down in Colorado. My horse took a bad fall and I had to put him down, which left me without a mount. I was supposed to meet Larry in Ragweed about another robbery, but without a horse I couldn't get there on time. While climbing through the hills outside of Laramie, I saw a man on a horse, so I decided to take it, but since I knew he wouldn't likely give it up without a fight, I dropped him from the saddle. Too bad I didn't kill him."

Jess raised his eyebrows, not knowing how Taft had acquired that information about Slim surviving the gunshot wound. Jess had said nothing about Slim's recovery to anyone during his search. He was glad that he hadn't needed to give any explanation to Sheriff Slocomb about the gunfight since there had been several witnesses to back up his claim that Larry Taft had fired his gun first. Their fight beforehand had been forgotten as soon as the man's body had hit the dirt so there was no questioning his motives for why he pounded his angry fists into his flesh repeatedly. Taft, watching Jess' every expression, noticed the question mark on his face and answered for him.

"I've been following you since you left Ragweed which led me right to the doorstop of a couple named Morrison. I hardly had to say a word, as that gabbing old woman told me everything I wanted to know about you."

Of course, Jess looked briefly down towards his boots as the realization kicked in. He should have known it'd been her. When he'd stopped there for dinner after the shootout with Larry, Mrs. Morrison had his story of vengeance out of him faster than he'd downed his plate full of roast beef and mashed potatoes. She wouldn't have missed relaying any detail to another's listening ears, especially one as eager for blood as this Taft was.

"You didn't care that you had the wrong man?" Levi threw his words sharply at Jess.

"He pulled a gun on me," Jess explained, "that said loud enough that he was guilty." It was true he hadn't known if Larry was truly guilty of shooting Slim or not, but when his gun was drawn, Jess pulled his and aimed, dropping Larry before the other trigger was even pulled. If Larry hadn't been dead before he hit the ground, he hadn't breathed long after he landed, giving the man zero opportunity to speak a confession. Jess realized at the time he hadn't cared about the other side of the story, only that the man he thought had gunned down Slim was dead. But he was wrong, and yet, if he had waited to find out the truth, he might be the one dead and headed for a burial.

"The only thing Larry was guilty of was being too slow with his draw," Levi said, pointing at Jess. "You killed an innocent man. How does it make you feel to be the next one?"

"Look, I'm sorry," Jess said the words sincerely, "if I woulda known he wasn't the right man, I woulda aimed differently. He was gonna gun me down, so I had no choice but to fire on him."

"Shut up," Levi snapped, gripping his pistol tight. "This isn't an understanding lawman that you're talking to. I'm Larry's brother! And we were more than that. We were close right from the start when he was born. I taught him how to grow up and be a man. We were alike in every way. You killed him and now I'm going to kill you."

Jess took a deep breath, seeing Taft in a different light. Yes, he was looking at the man who he'd vowed to get for shooting Slim, but he was also looking at a reflection of himself. This was a man bent on revenge for shooting down a brother. Jess had been on the exact same mission. He knew how he felt, knew how the blood seared through his veins, knew the sparks in his eyes, the tightness in his throat, the pounding in his temples, and how the gun felt in the hand as it was pointed towards its target. Perhaps it was this connection that helped Jess know the exact moment when Taft was going to pull the trigger.

Jess jumped and hit the dirt, rolling to the side as a pair of bullets went off, missing his body by inches as they tore their path into nothingness. He continued to roll, his feet scooting dangerously close to the edge of the falls as he continued dodging more bullets, but now his own gun filled his hand. He took his aim at the same instant Taft took his, the triggers being touched almost simultaneously. He knew Taft would be down to one of his last bullets, so his aim would be the most deadly. At the last second, Jess moved, unsure if his bullet met its mark as he tried to escape the one that chased him.

Jess didn't feel pain, but knew something had been struck close to him, sending a rock ricocheting against his chest and his body reacted as if shot, reeling him backwards. He instinctively slid his gun back in its holster, knowing what was coming next. His hands clutched for anything, but found nothing and soon there was only empty space beneath him. Jess plunged through the air, acutely aware of every detail as he fell. His eyes tried to focus on where he would land, but for a brief second after they found the sight, he closed them tight. The bottom was a long way down.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The thud on the ground was loud. Slim quickly stood up from the chair he was sitting in on the porch to see where the sound had come from and saw Jonesy over by the barn give him a wave of a hand that everything was all right. Jonesy had bumped the ladder that had been propped against the barn wall and it had landed with a pronounced thump instead of its usual clatter.

Slim shuddered, rubbing his hand up and down his arm as if he were trying to warm it up, but it was already a perfectly warm, even a borderline hot afternoon. Hadn't he been moving the sweat dampened lock of hair over his forehead for the past hour to try to get relief? Yet the shiver had been unmistakable. Slim watched as Jonesy picked up the ladder, putting it back where it had been before it fell. There was something about the way the ladder had landed that had startled him. It hadn't been normal. But then again, nothing had seemed normal since Jess had left.

Every day after Jess had gone hunting for the man who'd put a bullet in his back, Slim had slowly made progress returning to his feet until Doc Sweeney finally told him he was physically strong enough to do more than walk from the bedroom to the main living area of the house. After that declaration, Slim spent many hours on the porch watching, waiting, and hoping for news about Jess. With each incoming stage, Slim was the first to greet it, often hearing the excited chatter coming from Mose at how he thought Slim was looking healthier every day and would soon fully recover to "be stronger than this old mule and twice as good looking." But what Slim really wanted to hear from the gossip chain was a word about Jess, but with every new day there was nothing to be heard.

Slim didn't want to worry about Jess, because he knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but it was the reason why Jess was out facing the unknown that really had Slim troubled. Jess' every motive was because of him. He knew that if Jess found a passel full of trouble or if he would become injured on the trail, it was all for Slim.

The thoughts of injuries brought Slim to start pacing in front of the house, his head turning at every sound to look up the road like he was expecting someone to arrive any time. He had never been a jumpy man, and he wouldn't have readily admitted to this, especially not to Jess who would have probably laughed in his face that every little sound had him on edge. The eerie chill ran down his backbone once more and Slim put his hand on his mouth to squelch the gasp from escaping. What he felt was real and there was no denying the reason this time. Jess.

Something was wrong. Slim knew, just as he knew the summer before Jess arrived when Andy had fallen from a horse and broke his collar bone. He'd been in Laramie, in no hurry to return to the ranch, but a strange sensation had come over him and he'd left the supplies in Laramie and took the shortcut home, feeling a pain in his shoulder the entire time. He felt a pain now, but he couldn't pinpoint where, perhaps, because it was everywhere. Jess was in trouble, hurt, or worse. And unlike how he had rushed to Andy's side, there was nothing he could do now.

Slim knew the color had drained from his face just by feeling alone. He also knew the moment that Jonesy looked at him and had seen the change that had come over him, for the older man dropped what he was doing and ran, a fast pace for Jonesy anyway, to be by his side. The look of concern in Jonesy's eyes told Slim loud and clear that he looked at ashen as he felt. Jonesy still ushered him off to bed whenever he felt Slim had been overdoing it, but what Slim was now experiencing wasn't physical strain, but an emotional wallop.

"Slim," Jonesy said worriedly, placing his hand on Slim's arm, "you're as white as that sheet I washed earlier. I knew you shouldn't be up on your feet for this long. What are you trying to do, turn me into an old woman with all of this fretting? You need to get back in bed before you drop from exhaustion."

"Bed's not where I belong, Jonesy," Slim said, although he wouldn't admit he felt a little weakened, but that was more from his anxious thoughts and not from his recovering wound. "I need to help Jess."

"Jess?" Jonesy asked, not even trying to hide his bewilderment as he scratched his chin. "He's been gone all this time and now you want to help him? What's brought all of this on?"

"I don't know, Jonesy," Slim said slowly, not allowing Jonesy to usher him into the house like he wanted, but kept his feet rooted to the ground. "Something's come over me that I can't explain. I just know Jess needs help."

"Do you want me to go into town to see if there's been any update?" Jonesy offered, watching Slim's eyes and not liking what he saw there. "Just might be a telegram waiting there to ease your mind."

"No, Jonesy," Slim shook his head as he pinched the rim of his nose with his fingers. "It's probably nothing. Maybe you're right and I just need to lie down for a while." But Slim knew that wasn't the truth even before he spoke the words.

"I'll go get your bed ready," Jonesy hurried in the house, but Slim refused to follow, yet he could hear Jonesy calling him from the bedroom. "Come on inside, you know it'll only take a minute to plump a pillow."

Slim stood, facing northward, somehow knowing that was the exact direction that Jess was. He didn't know how near or how far he was, but somewhere out there Jess was in great need. He couldn't physically go to him, he knew that and because of his own health risk, he couldn't even try. However, there was a nudging on his back, or it might have just been a twinge of pain from his wound, he didn't ponder long on the feeling to make a clear assumption, he just knew he had to offer something. Slim suddenly remembered how Jess' voice had reached him in his unconsciousness and helped pull him from the depths of darkness. There wasn't any way that Jess could ever hear him, but Slim gave what Jess had given him: A heartfelt plea from a brother with a reason to carry on.

"Come on, Jess," Slim said loud enough to hear his own voice, but not loud enough for anyone else to notice. "Whatever you're facing you're tougher than it is. I know you can do it, Jess. Come on, Jess. Come on, Pard, breathe!"

Why breathe? Slim shook his head and in that movement he heard the same word come from Jess' mouth. Had Jess said that word to him at some point while he was struggling to live? The memory wouldn't surface any further, but Slim was almost certain there was something trying to make a connection in his brain. He sighed gently as his eyes began to blink more rapidly. That exhaustion that Jonesy had talked about really was knocking on his door. Rest was the only thing he could do to stifle it. With one last look towards the northern horizon, Slim called Jess' name again, only this time it was silent on the outside, but very loud on the inside.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

There was a distance between man and water, but both fell in a rapid pace to the bottom below. The water, rushing down in its usual torrent, lashing everything it touched, was oblivious to the body that hurtled down beside it. The man, however, very aware of the rushing stream beside him, knew that death would have been imminent if that span had not existed, if the water and the man had been as one. It still could come, he knew, when he landed or shortly thereafter.

As Jess fell, the entire drop appeared to happen for him in a slowed down motion and not the hurtling plunge that it really was. In those seconds from top to bottom, a wide range of thoughts hammered inside of his head, but the one that struck the hardest chord was words from Mort Cory's mouth. _Your best friend almost died. Don't do anything to have your best friend go through the same suffering you just experienced._ The pool of water was inches above his face as he cried out, knowing that Slim was about to suffer.

Jess' body hit the water, the splash getting lost with the ever present downpour of the falls. The rolling water sucked Jess under as he plummeted through the cold water, then hoisted him back to the surface for a brief second, his mouth opening to swallow a gulp of air before he was slammed back down into the depths of the watershed. Jess couldn't get his arms and legs to function into a position to swim as the strength of the current pulled his limbs apart faster than he could command them to perform. He would never have been classified as a great swimmer, since he'd only learned several months before how to even perform in the water, but this raging deathtrap would have even been beyond the capabilities of the most experienced swimmer in the world to accomplish. His lungs ached with lack of air as he frantically searched with his arms for the surface. Something struck his back, pain shooting through his entire body, but the jerking movement as he arched his back sent him upwards and his lungs found the air they desperately needed.

Jess fought with every ounce of strength he possessed to stay about the waterline, but instead of going downstream with the current, he was being sucked back towards the falls as the water ebbed and flowed in a circular motion. There was nothing around him but rolling water, nothing to grasp and pull himself to safety. Jess rode on top of the water until he swirled closer to the falls as the pelting from above started to pull him back under. He couldn't stay afloat any longer as his body couldn't withstand the heavy battering, so he drew a deep breath as he felt the strength of the water overpower him as he tried to overpower it.

Jess dove as deeply as he could, moving his body with the flow of the water to escape the abyss that was the bottom of the falls. As his oxygen began to wear off, he put everything he had in what might become his last valiant effort of survival and pushed his body forward. He began to black out as water rushed through his nostrils. The burning sensation down his throat and into his stomach was enough to snap him out of unconsciousness long enough to see a circle of brightness above him. He reached for it with one hand and soon his head popped out of the water after it. He took an unsteady breath of air, but there was little strength left in his body as the current continued to demand he stay below the surface. Jess coughed, the sound came forth more like a sputtering noise from his mouth as more water made its way down his throat. There was nothing else he could do to stop the water from doing its damage. It was too powerful for any man to survive. Jess knew his struggle was about to come to an end and he welcomed the darkness when it came.

Jess knew nothing of the water and the grave it was preparing for him anymore. As his body went back and forth from surface to the depths, he saw nothing but blackness, felt nothing but peace, yet strangely he could hear. The roar of the water plugged his ears and in its place came a voice. It was a strong voice, yet there was no recognition at first. _Come on, Jess_ , the voice cheered him, encouraged him, bolstered his courage. _Come on, Jess, I know you can do it._ He wanted to get to that voice but there was no way he could find it in the darkness, but somehow he knew if he'd reach it, the voice would save him. _Come on, Jess!_

Jess' body hit something solid, but there was no pain to relay this fact to his brain. His holster stuck up out of the water, hung up on the object that stopped him from going onward downstream. With another roll of water washing over him, Jess' body turned upward, slamming into and then over the unknown object and onto a pile of rocks, dropping him entirely onto dry ground. None of this registered in his brain as he wavered between life and death. Everything around him seemed to go as still as he was. Jess was not breathing.

The darkness was overwhelming, but then there were blurry, seemingly wet images of Jonesy and Andy, but where was Slim? He wouldn't leave him alone, would he? Then Jess knew. Slim was right beside him, perhaps not in body, but in spirit. There was an image floating forward of Slim hauling his body from the river that he'd plunged into on route to the Lolo and Jess grabbed a hold of it with all of his might. _Come on, Jess!_ It was at that moment that the voice he'd heard was Slim's and it was getting louder and louder in his ears as if Slim were kneeling beside him, just as Jess had kneeled beside Slim when he was dying, shouting for him to come back. _Come on, Pard_ , something began to happen inside of Jess that Slim would never see. _Breathe!_

Jess' eyes opened at the same time water coursed from his mouth. He inhaled sharply, the spasms of coughing that followed bringing the entire contents of the river that was inside of him out onto the rocks. His breathing was haggard and rough, but Jess was alive. He raised himself up by his hands, coughing, sputtering, wheezing, but the sound was life, and it was glorious.

It was several minutes before Jess could find the strength to shift his position and drop to his bottom on the ground. Once there, he rubbed his hands over his face, continuing to take deep breaths into his still burning lungs as if there wasn't enough air around him to breathe. After his lungs were finally satisfied, pain throughout his body began to register. There wasn't a limb that didn't ache, but it was his back, wrapping around one side that hurt the most. Jess touched the most tender area, wondering if ribs were broken. Blood flowed around his right ear and when Jess reached to wipe it away he winced with the sharp stab of pain that it caused. The gash must have been at least two inches long and he figured whatever had pierced him had come mighty close to ripping his ear clean off.

A thud amidst the constant rush of water brought Jess' attention back to the river. Near where he sat the water lashed against an uprooted tree, with most of its core in the flow of water with the exception of a few mangled arms that jutted up off of the trunk. The noise he'd heard was a chunk of wood chewed by a beaver's mouth that bumped into the submerged tree until it was freed by a push of water as it lapped over the top of the consumed tree. As Jess studied the movement against the tree, he began to realize how it had played a crucial role in saving his life. The water had forcefully carried his body to the tree, where he must have gotten hung up by one of the wayward branches until a wave of water released him, instead of hurtling him back into the angry torrent, it had flipped him onto the rocks near the base of the tree.

But it wasn't just the tree that had pointed him the way to safety. The more Jess started to recall the little details as he balanced between life and death, he remembered Slim's voice urging him on. Without it, he would have perished. It was the same, Jess realized, in how Slim had described his near death experience to him. The sound of the voice of his best friend and the need to live for that friend pulled him out of the water, bringing life back into his body. Because of Jess, Slim was alive. Because of Slim, Jess was alive.

"Thank you, Pard," Jess spoke aloud, even though his throat ached from coughing which made his voice sound unlike his own. "Thank you, for bringing me out of death."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Jess stayed against the root wad of the tree, the heat of the afternoon sun bringing its now welcoming rays over his body, drying the clothes that had clung tightly to his skin. He stayed in this position throughout the remainder of the day and on into darkness as his body wouldn't allow much movement to be made. Despite the pain that wracked his body, the amount of exhaustion that was inside of him was enough to drop him off into sleep as soon as darkness settled over the land, taking him through the night with several hours of rest. He awoke with the sunrise in the morning, the pain even more intense than before. Jess groaned, trying to roll over onto his right side, only then discovering that his gun had survived the plunge as it was surprisingly still strapped to his hip. He touched the handle, feeling its familiarity and breathed a deep sigh of relief and agony.

Jess stood up, his legs supporting his weight, but not doing so without first shaking and then pinching with pain around his hips and into his backside. Doing his best to push the pain aside from his foremost thoughts, he turned his attention to observe the layout of the land around him. The falls weren't far away as he could visibly see the exact place where he'd fallen from. He hated the thought of going back to the top, but there was a vital piece of information he needed to know before he could carry on. Right before he'd fallen, he'd taken a shot at Taft and if his bullet had made contact with Taft or not, the evidence would be up there.

It took him several hours to make his way back to the top where his catastrophe began. Finding a suitable trail had been difficult, but the toil it took on his body was even harder. The higher he climbed, the more Jess struggled with every step to make it, wondering several times if he wasn't going to reach his goal at all. While resting near the top, Jess looked back down to where he could see the place where he'd exited the river, discovering at that moment that the river's current had taken him on the opposite side of the river from where he'd dropped from. He would have to cross the river above the falls to get to where the gun shots had been swapped.

Jess had already crossed the river with Traveler and he'd choose the exact path again, but now his stomach began to tighten with anxiety, a feeling he hated more than most emotions he'd experienced. The water moved at the same speed as the day before, but that had been before he'd taken a ride that had almost ended his life and he was glad there was no one around to witness his trepidation at putting his foot into the river again. But Jess Harper was a strong-willed man, and he challenged himself to step in and walk across the water unafraid, just as he'd had to face countless men in gun battles throughout his life. Before he had time to even think of being unsteady on his feet, Jess had crossed to the other side and he planted his feet firmly on the exact piece of ground where he'd taken his fateful plunge.

He turned, looking over the entirety of the land away from the waterfall, but Taft's body was nowhere in sight. Jess stepped forward, checking the ground for any sign that his bullet had hit flesh. The ground was rocky and wet from the constant mist from the falls so Jess knew unless there had been an abundance of blood loss, where he searched he might not find anything. What started to trouble Jess the most, however, was that there also wasn't any sign of Traveler. Would Taft have stolen him too?

Jess rubbed his hand over his head, resting a finger on the wound behind his ear to check to see if it still bled and as he viewed the red smudge that was there, another red mark began to focus in his vision. Jess knelt and found the sign he'd been looking for. Taft had been hit. Perhaps not fatally, or at least not instantaneously so, but Taft had taken a bullet. For the next hour Jess searched the surrounding area for a body, but only found one other spot of blood. Taft was wounded, but not badly enough that he couldn't walk away from it. Jess looked down towards the expanse of ground below the falls wondering where he'd go, still not knowing if he'd taken Traveler with him.

He would continue on foot. The pain in his body would have to be set aside for now, as sitting idle was not an option. Jess couldn't find much in the way of horse tracks as the terrain wouldn't take an imprint, but he followed what appeared to be the best route for a horse to take through a winding path that eventually would lead to lower ground, but also drew farther away from the perilous waterfall. He couldn't help but feel grateful when the sound of the rushing water was finally beyond earshot.

He had traveled for what he'd figured was nearly a mile and then Jess hoisted himself on top of a climbable boulder to check his surroundings. Without his hat that had been washed away in the river, he shielded his eyes from the sun to see in each direction, stopping in the westerly view as a welcoming sight came into focus. Standing in a patch of lush grass that flanked a much friendlier stream was Traveler.

Sliding off of the boulder, Jess approached his mount with caution in case Taft was also close by, but with each step that he took, it became clear to see that Traveler was alone. Whether Taft had led him to this spot or if Traveler had wandered there on his own it didn't matter, Jess had his transportation back. He reached out a hand to his cautious friend and when total recognition was made, Jess ran his hand along Traveler's neck to assure him that everything was all right. He was unable to mount in his usual fashion and as soon as he pulled himself into the saddle, Jess wondered if walking had been a better option. The pain intensified through his back muscles and ribcage, but it was almost worse from his backside down through both legs. With a noticeable wince, Jess nudged Traveler into motion.

Jess almost felt like he was back at the beginning of his search for Taft, although this time he had a name and face instead of the zero leads that he'd originally begun with. Jess knew Taft could be anywhere and without a sufficient trail, he didn't know where to start anew. There was still the possibility that the man could have been dead somewhere, just not falling to the ground within the range of land that Jess had already searched. There were many true stories of men taking a bullet, even a simple one in the arm that later perished from blood loss or infection. This could have been the case for Taft, but Jess wouldn't know unless he found him.

There was one good possibility that he would check before going anywhere else and it had been his original destination before meeting up with the second Taft. He was now less than a day's ride away from Ames' place, and Taft would know its close proximity as well. Jess figured that was the best place to start over, besides, he needed to check to make sure Alamo was still being taken care of.

When he arrived at Ames' barn, Jess' eyes were drawn to the front door of the house as he watched Ames step outside, the man not bothering to stay hidden like he had the first time he'd ridden in. Jess watched his every expression for indication of surprise or fear, but the only one that he noted on his face was annoyance. Jess tried not to smirk, knowing that he would give him reason to be annoyed, if Ames told him any more of his lies.

Jess lowered himself to the ground in obvious pain, but did his best to walk to the barn without a limp and kept his jaw set in a firm grip to prevent the hurt from registering on his face. The bruises he couldn't hide, but the rest of his body was a different story. He didn't want to show Ames that he wasn't physically sound enough to throttle him like he'd threatened to do so that he could remain in command. He didn't have to think of his lack of manpower and the disadvantage it might give him for long, since Jess had only stepped a couple of feet into the barn when Alamo nickered a greeting.

"Glad you decided to take my advice," Jess said without turning around, knowing that Ames stood behind him in the doorway. "You see Taft?"

"Me?" Ames asked, making a sarcastic comment rise to Jess' lips but he kept them sealed as Ames continued. "I thought you'd be seeing him."

"I did," Jess said coolly, turning to face Ames, hoping the man couldn't tell how much he was hurting, "but now I asked if you've seen him."

"No," Ames shook his head, watching as Jess' hand touched the handle of his gun, "and that's the honest truth this time."

"All right," Jess nodded, folding his arms across his chest, "I believe you. I'll be taking my friend's horse with me now."

"You know when you take that horse, I'll be out a horse," Ames said with a frown.

"Take it up with Taft," Jess said as he started gathering Alamo's gear to get him saddled and ready to go.

"He eats a lot," Ames added, this being his attempt to try to get a dollar for his end of the deal.

"What's left in my pockets stays in my pockets," Jess answered, not wanting Ames to know that the only thing in any of his pockets was silt. All the coins he'd carried, which weren't many to begin with, all ended up at the bottom of the river somewhere. "But if you're unsatisfied with that, I can always send Laramie's sheriff out your way to discuss your unsavory business deals."

"No, no," Ames shook his head, starting to back out of the barn as Jess was ready to lead Alamo out. "I'll just chalk this up as experience."

"That sounds like the best deal yet," Jess comment dryly as he walked past Ames.

There was no hiding the fact that Jess had difficulty mounting, but Ames said nothing, only stood by his barn shaking his head as Jess rode away on Traveler, leading Alamo along behind him. If Ames had thought he'd been fooled, he didn't say a word, perhaps because he was more afraid of Jess than he'd want anyone to know.

Jess stopped after a mile of traveling away from the Ames property, unsure what was his next step to take. Jess was not giving up on his quest, not for anything, but he definitely felt like he had a dilemma in not knowing which way to turn. Ames hadn't been a stopping place on Taft's map this time around, which led Jess right back to a trail leading to nowhere. There weren't any clues to uncover, unless, Jess suddenly had a thought occur to him, Taft had unknowingly given him a sign.

Ever since his near death experience, Jess had trouble putting precise details in Taft's conversation together and he could say the same about the other encounters on his journey. Jess put his hand to his forehead, working the lines above his eyes to aid in helping him remember the words Taft had said. The man had full intentions of killing him and considering he'd witnessed Jess' fall, he likely would have assumed he had succeeded. To Levi Taft, Jess Harper was a dead man. He wouldn't be running from him, trying to escape, but he was wounded and should have been somewhere resting, yet he was running. It didn't make sense. Jess shook his head hard, bringing a moment of dizziness through him from the wound alongside of his ear and he was glad he was sitting on top of Traveler, otherwise he'd probably be face down in the dirt.

"Where would he go?" Jess said aloud, more to keep himself alert than for any other reason. "What would he do?"

The memories of their conversation began to tap into Jess' mind until he heard the words as loud as when they'd first been spoken. _Too bad I didn't kill him_. Taft was referencing Slim. _That gabbing old woman told me everything I wanted to know about you_. Then he mentioned Mrs. Morrison. The two statements were connected somehow, they had entered Jess' mind one right after the other, too quick for it to not be important. What had he said to Mrs. Morrison anyhow? She talked a lot, and he knew he'd talked a lot. The woman must have been contagious.

Jess put his hand to his face, feeling the stubble along his chin and he suddenly remembered as if the remainder of the river water rushed out of his brain through his ears. She'd insisted he'd shave first because she claimed that no man with the scruff he wore would sit at her table. That exposed more of his bruises, which brought on the fight as he ate the potatoes, which brought on the hunt as he ate the roast beef, which brought on the reason, the second plate was filled, finally the conversation went entirely to Slim and their brotherly friendship as she'd topped the meal off with pie. How did she learn so fast that food, especially on an empty stomach such as his, was a weakness to him? He'd have to learn to be more careful around women with food.

Once the memories started coming back, it was easier to remember the details. Jess focused on a particular portion of the conversation and soon he not only remembered the words, but the food that had slid through his lips at the same time. He was glad at the moment he felt slightly nauseated from his injuries, or otherwise, with the reminder of the meal Mrs. Morrison had prepared for him, he would have been ravenous.

"Yeah," Jess had nodded his head, needing to wait before he swallowed his mouthful before expounding on his answer to her inquiry about if Slim would have done the same for him. "Slim would be out looking for a man who shot me down in cold blood, too. Can I have some more bread? The gravy shouldn't go to waste. Thanks, Ma'am. Maybe Slim wouldn't have knocked the man's brains out with his fists like I did, but sure, he wouldn't sit still if I woulda been the one that was shot."

"Tell me more about this friend of yours," Mrs. Morrison pulled a pie from the windowsill where it had been cooling. Jess hadn't even needed to ask for two slices, she had them both plated before he could grin.

"We're like brothers," Jess said after consuming half of a slice of pie. "How'd you know apple was my favorite? Anyway, I reckon even though we ain't born of the same parents, Slim and I are as close as if we were, closer probably."

Jess shifted his weight in the saddle as he brought his mind back to the present, but then Taft's voice came back into his head _. Everything I wanted to know_. Then Jess' own words followed _. Slim would be out looking for a man who shot me down in cold blood, too. We're like brothers._ And then Taft's menacing line made a chill creep up Jess' backbone. _Too bad I didn't kill him_.

"No!" Jess' echo bounced back sharply as if it was reality hitting him in the face. Taft knew he hadn't killed Slim. The only way he'd fully get away from murdering Jess, since that's what he thought he'd done, was to finish off Slim.

Jess turned towards Laramie at a fast trot, but he was at least two days away from home. Because of his fall and stopping by Ames' place, Taft already had a two day head start. If Jess was right, and the sickening feeling in his gut told him he was right, Taft could possibly be very close to the ranch by now. The only thing that might cause a delay would be how much of an injury Jess had given him. He only hoped it would be enough to slow him down long enough for Jess to catch up. Jess had already vowed to get him once, he didn't need to have reason to make the same vow twice.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"There's no reason that you shouldn't go into town," Slim stood beside the hitched up wagon trying to persuade Jonesy and Andy to go to Laramie together. "I'll be fine on my own."

"Hmm," Jonesy shook his head, "I don't know. This would be the first time since you were shot that you've been home alone. You just might get the itch to do some chores that you shouldn't do since there's no one here to tell you not to."

"Jonesy," Slim said, putting his hand on Jonesy's shoulder, "it just so happens that if I had that itch to do things I shouldn't be doing, it wouldn't take you running off to town to get me to do them. I'd up and do them anyway."

"Yeah, well, it's true that I wouldn't be able to stop you, but you'd sure get an earful if you did," Jonesy chuckled as he climbed into the wagon seat beside Andy. "All right, boy, but at least promise me you'll still be standing when we come back this evening and not laid out flat in bed because you hurt yourself doing things you shouldn't be doing."

"I don't know, Jonesy," Slim rubbed his chin. "There's so much heavy work to be done without Jess here."

"Oh, Slim, please," Andy said with a slight exasperation to his voice. "If you don't agree to that then we'll never get to town."

"You're right, Andy," Slim reached his hand out and patted Andy on the shoulder. It had been rough on Andy since he'd nearly died and he knew it'd do his brother good to step away from the ranch for a while to just be a kid without a man's responsibilities on his shoulders. "I'll be good, Jonesy, I promise."

"That's what I like to hear," Jonesy said with a smile as he slapped the reins to get the wagon rolling towards Laramie. "Bye, Slim. Don't take care of the cows."

Slim watched them leave until they were out of sight, shaking his head at Jonesy's last comment. One of his regular sayings to whoever was left at the ranch whenever he'd leave was to, "take care of the cows." This reminder from Jonesy was specifically for Slim to not do so this time, although they all knew that more often than not, the cows took care of themselves.

Slim walked slowly towards the corral and leaned against the railings, observing his ranch, his home. Everywhere he turned there was something that needed his attention. It was hard for him to not jump into the next task that needed doing, to not get his hands dirty with work and to not let the strain of his muscles ripple through his back doing heavy labor, his back that still hurt, that still needed to mend. Slim had stayed idle longer than he would have liked, but with Doc Sweeney telling him to not overdo it and Jonesy making sure that he followed those doctor's orders, he'd hardly been able to do something as simple as wring out the laundry before Jonesy pinned it to the line. He had done a few chores that were more exerting than squeezing water out of long johns, but not without bringing a persistent ache to his back in doing so. He'd had to continue to take a step back even though he didn't want to. Without Jess' strong, diligent hand, the heaviest duties had remained undone. Without Jess.

Slim sighed, trying to count the days that Jess had been gone. The first few days of his absence, Slim had spent many hours of the daylight sleeping, so most of those days were muddled together. Even after he'd spent more time on his feet, one day not being much different than the next, he'd consistently lost track of time. It had been three days, of that Slim was certain, since he'd had the gut punch feeling that something had been wrong with Jess. Since then, he'd been strangely relaxed about his wandering friend. But as for the entire journey's duration, if he had to make a solid guess, Slim would say it had been two weeks, but he would never have placed a bet on that number being right.

Jess could have traveled a long distance in a two week timeframe. He had hoped that there would be information on one of the incoming stages, either from a message sent from Mort Cory in town, or from somewhere else along the other stage stops about Jess by now, but the silence was always the same. Slim wondered if the reason for that was that Jess had left Wyoming Territory. He could have been anywhere in any direction. Slim knew that Jess was the type of man that would have followed that unseen trail as far as the east coast and back again if that's what he thought he had to do. Jess was as stubborn as the days were long, but when used for the right reasons, that stubbornness was one of his best qualities.

Slim admired Jess for his tenacity. It would get him into trouble sometimes, but it would also get him out of it just as frequently. Slim knew that grittiness was what shaped his character into who Jess really was on the inside and out, with his other prominent attribute being his deep devotion. There had been many instances in the year that they'd been partnered together that Jess had shown that specifically for him, however, the one that stood out the most in his mind was when the trail drive was over. Hake Ballard, the man who Jess had become fast friends with on the trail, wanted to kill Slim. By that time, Jess had already stepped out of Ballard's shadow, but he showed everyone whose friendship was most important to him when he stood in Slim's place, to die if necessary to stop Ballard from gunning Slim down.

It had been one of the most eye-opening events in Slim's life to have someone be ready to live what the scriptures said, 'to lay down his life for a friend'. Andy had been the one that had said that Ballard was faster than Jess, but despite this fact, and Jess had already seen him in action, Jess was willing to challenge him, and in the end, it was Jess' bullet that brought on Ballard's death. Jess still stood when the smoke had cleared and Slim had witnessed it all. He clearly remembered picking up Jess' hat in the dirt, brushing it off, that being the least of what he could do in his thanks. Going home from the trail drive had been the best part of the entire journey, not because home was at the other end, but because without Ballard between them, Slim and Jess could fully experience brotherly bonding time. Unlike all of the other times they'd spent out in the big open together, and there had been several, this one was different because it had centered on sacrificial love.

Slim loved Jess like a brother and he knew Jess loved him the same. Of course they had never said the words out loud like Slim would say to Andy during especially tender moments, but it was genuinely there between them even though it had gone unspoken. Jess had said himself that it was hard for him to show love, but it wasn't hard for Slim to see. Jess could be gentle, even with the rough persona he carried everywhere he went. Jess had a heart full of love to give, even if the emotion sometimes had a difficult time wriggling itself out of his gruff exterior. He showed it on a daily basis to Andy, it was evident that Jess cared for animals, especially his faithful Traveler and it wasn't unlike Jess to go out of his way to do a simple random act of kindness for the members of his family and even to people he didn't personally know. In all these things, Jess expressed a genuine love, Harper style. Slim only hoped that his returned brotherly love was felt and seen in return.

Slim adjusted his body position since the way he had been leaning against the railing started to put a strain on his back and he wanted to avoid that pressure from turning into pain. He turned so that his face was shadowed, but the rest of him remained in the bright light. The sun, not as hot as it had been the past few days, felt good to his back as he stood in its warmth for several minutes. It loosened the tight muscles around the wound and made Slim want to do something with his hands, despite his promise to Jonesy. There were axles that needed fixing, the door on the outhouse was starting to come off on one end, the daily supply of wood hadn't been chopped, and the list went on and on. Slim pulled his gloves from his pocket and started to put them on, planning to tackle whatever task he first put his hands on.

Before he took two steps forward, Slim's ears picked up the sound of a rider before one even came into view. He felt his anticipation start to rise in hopes that it was Jess returning but it was quickly squelched. Even with the rider at a fair distance away, he could tell that it wasn't Jess' outline. The man that was coming down the trail from the north was tall in the saddle, broad shouldered and as he came closer, Slim noted that he had a long straight nose and squared jaw with a scar in one corner. He was a stranger to Slim but that didn't mean he was a stranger to these parts. He rode his horse slowly all the way to the center of the yard where Slim stood waiting.

"Howdy, is this the Sherman ranch?"

"Sure is, mister," Slim nodded, reaching out a hand to touch the friendly bay that he rode.

The man smiled slightly and then tipped his hat with his introduction, "my name's Levi Taft."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"I'm Slim Sherman," Slim reached his hand out to shake Taft's hand. "What brings you out this way?"

"Thought I was lost for a spell," Taft shrugged as he dismounted. "Mind if my horse uses your trough?"

"Go right ahead," Slim motioned with his hand towards the water trough, watching as Taft led the bay to the water and then after the horse had its fill, he took a handful to his mouth for himself.

"Nice place you have here," Taft said, shaking the water droplets from his hand. "It's kind of quiet though for a ranch this size. Surely you don't run this place by yourself."

"No," Slim glanced at Taft, feeling his suspicions arouse. Was this man intentionally trying to find out if he was home alone? He thought it best to skirt around the truth of everyone else's absence until he learned more about this stranger. "I have a younger brother and two workers."

"Still seems shorthanded if you ask me," Taft put his hands on his hips and looked all around, "looks that way too. I could use the work."

"I am a little particular with who I hire around here," Slim said as he continued to scrutinize the man in front of him. There was something about him that he didn't like, but he couldn't put a finger on what was making a warning signal trigger in his mind. For all he knew, Taft would be exactly what he needed right now. Someone to do the hard labor that he wasn't able to do. Even though he had his suspicions, he hadn't exactly had the kindest thoughts about Jess from the beginning either. Jess still wouldn't let him forget his negative first impression and the unwelcoming gun that he'd held in his hand.

"Understandable," Taft shrugged. "I know a man has to be careful with whom you can trust these days, and you know nothing about me. I wish I had recommendations as long as my arm that would sway your decision, but they don't exist."

"Haven't you worked on a ranch before?" Slim asked, raising an eyebrow. Taft definitely didn't have the look of a cowboy, but then again, what had he labeled Jess at first? Slim started to frown, not because of the man's request for a job, but because he wondered why his mind kept going back and forth from Taft to Jess. He shook his head, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand, but Jess still wasn't far away in his mind. It was almost as if there was something about this man that had brought a rush of thoughts about Jess, but why, Slim didn't know. Likely Jess and Taft had never even met.

"Not recently," Taft shook his head and then turned towards his horse, ready to mount. "Look, I can see in your face that I'm wasting my time here. I'll see if I can get work in Laramie."

Taft rode away, pointing his mount towards Laramie so not to put any more suspicion in Sherman's mind. There definitely had been feelings of mistrust coming from Sherman, there was no denying that obvious fact. It even was evident in how Slim had watched him ride off, all the way until he was out of sight, but then again, Taft was also keeping his eye on Sherman until he disappeared as well. Two suspicious minds were at work, although one had more reason than the other to be apprehensive, but the man still standing alongside his house didn't know it yet. As soon as Taft turned his horse around the corner up the hill, Taft dropped out of the saddle and led his horse off of the road where he secured the animal to a tree. He inched his way down the hill, keeping rocks and shrubbery between himself and the Sherman house to remain hidden from sight. By that time, Sherman had left his watchful post and had resumed whatever task Taft had interrupted when he had ridden in.

Taft found the perfect place where he could stay almost completely concealed by anyone down below him while he could see the entire open space of the yard that surrounded the house and barn. Taft leaned against a large rock as he considered the alteration of his plan since he hadn't gotten the information that he'd needed to do his job properly. He couldn't exactly pull a trigger on Sherman right then and there like he wanted without first knowing if there were any witnesses around. So far he had been able to keep his name and face off of wanted posters because of how he skillfully planned out the murders he committed beforehand, and he wasn't about to have that be changed now.

Knowing enough information from the ever enlightening Mrs. Morrison, Harper wasn't just Sherman's closest friend, but also his hardest worker. He'd put the plot in action that Sherman would need help on the ranch because of the duration Harper had been absent and he had hoped Sherman would take him up on a job offer, but it appeared the man was more perceptive than he'd realized to see that he wasn't ranch hand material. It would have been easy to win his trust working alongside of him and wait for the perfect opportunity to finish what he'd started a few weeks earlier, but that wasn't the way it was going to be. Taft knew that some murders never came easy and he also knew that this one could still turn out to be simple, but now he just had to deal with a slight delay.

Taft adjusted his position and bumped his left arm into the boulder, wincing from a sharp stab of pain that it caused, a stark reminder of Harper's bullet. He knew how fast Harper was when he'd killed Larry, because he himself had taught his brother how to draw a gun. Levi had always been quicker at the draw, but he'd never considered Larry slow until he'd met up with a man like Harper. He had been fortunate in two different ways in how Harper moved at the last second. One, it altered the course of the bullet, sending it into his arm instead of a fatal blow to the chest like his opponent would have wanted. Two, it made Harper fall to his death. For Taft, the bullet passed right through the flesh above his elbow, missing the bone and he'd stopped the bleeding shortly after he had been hit. For Harper, the bullet Taft had aimed became unnecessary. Even if it struck his vitals, the fall was what sealed his fate.

After the pain in his arm lessened to be more tolerable, Taft sat down in his new position, knowing he would have to wait longer than anticipated as he watched every movement that Sherman took below him to know if he really was alone or not. He would be patient, after all, he was the one with time on his side. He'd already spent two extra days resting from his wound, this little bit more wouldn't matter much. Until Harper's body would be found there wasn't any real hurry anyway. He just wanted it done so he could flee Wyoming Territory once more, this time, being for good.

Taft had been watching Sherman for over an hour when he finally came to the conclusion that he must have truly been alone. He could tell by his actions that he still suffered pain from the bullet he'd put in his back. It was when Sherman lifted a wagon wheel and suddenly dropped it, putting his hand immediately to his back that the knowledge of both had struck him. It was likely that if someone hovered around in the house or barn, they would have come running when Sherman cried out in pain. A smile crept up the corners of Taft's mouth as Sherman went inside of the house, giving him the perfect opportunity to continue down off of the hill unseen.

Taft slipped inside of the barn and checked every corner, proving his suspicion that there was no one else around but Sherman. He took another peek towards the house and then went through the side door into the corral. His presence alone was enough to stir up the horses that were there, which was exactly what he wanted to do. At the sound of the commotion, when the front door opened, Taft crept back into the shadows of the barn and watched as Sherman exited. His confirmation was complete. If Sherman wasn't alone, someone else would have come to check on the stock, not the injured man.

He checked the gun at his hip and took a deep breath, ready to step out of the barn. Taft knew the rifle shot placed in Sherman's back had been a perfect aim, but since he was still alive, he figured that the one who'd dug the bullet out of him was far more skilled than any other sawbones he'd come across. Taft knew he couldn't give a doctor like that another chance to prove his skill, so this time, the bullet wouldn't be given in the back, but front and center, right in the heart, fired twice if need be. It had to happen, because he had to stop the Sherman and Harper connection and their quest for revenge from ever haunting him again. Because Taft had shot, albeit not killed Sherman, Harper had taken the life of Larry. Because of Harper killing Larry, Levi had taken the life of Harper. Now it had come full circle once more and it was time to kill Sherman. Taft drew his gun and stepped out of the barn.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Slim stood in the bedroom doorway of the house, angry and frustrated. He refused to go to bed, not only because of the promise he'd made to Jonesy that when he and Andy returned home from Laramie, he wouldn't find him in bed, but mostly because he didn't want to readily admit to being defeated by something as simple as a wagon wheel. The first thing Slim did after dropping the wheel that brought pain coursing through his back was groan and grab the source of pain, but when he'd walked into the house, thinking he'd need to lie down to rest, the first thing he did instead was slam his hand into the doorframe. Slim felt like he was at a crossroads there in the house, looking at his bed. He'd already decided against lying down, but the only other option was to turn right back around and walk out of the house and try again. He didn't know if he could do it. Perhaps bed was where he belonged after all.

The horses in the corral made the decision for him. Slim turned his head towards the sound coming from outside at the agitated horses and then exited the house, going straight towards the corral. He could see nothing that had spooked the horses, but they had been easily stirred up since Jess had been away. Despite Jonesy's adamant claims that horses didn't like him, the animals were content under his faithful care, but the one they responded to the most with obedience was Jess. Slim had noticed the difference in their unruly behavior as soon as he was able to get back on his feet. The horses weren't usually acting up because they were antsy or afraid, but it was because they missed their favorite gentle hand. Slim did too.

Slim reached his hand out to touch one of the mares in a comforting gesture, his thoughts turning to his own mount, wondering if he'd ever see Alamo again. If Jess couldn't track him down, it was possible the Sherman brand might be noticed by someone someday, but that was only if the person that did the seeing was honest. The man that had shot him and stolen Alamo likely wouldn't associate with honest people very often since he himself would probably stay on the wrong side of the law for the rest of his life.

The sun was still warm on Slim's back, but suddenly he felt a chill creep up his backbone. He stiffened, his senses starting to become alert. He'd felt this way before, in fact, recently the same feeling had come over him. This was different than when Slim had the overwhelming urge that something was wrong with Jess, but he knew the emotion as if it were a friend tapping him on the shoulder. Slim ran his hand up his arm, his mind racing to remember when he'd experienced the same spine tingling emotion. It didn't take him long, for another shiver up his back brought another wave of pain from his wound. With that, came the memory. He was being watched, just like he had felt right before he was shot.

Slim's eyes slowly scanned his surroundings in front of him, but he didn't move his feet. He saw no one, but he didn't figure he would because he knew that whoever it was, viewed him from the back. He didn't want to go for his gun, since there was probably already one aimed at him. He felt it without even seeing it and he didn't flinch when he heard the hammer pulled and footsteps come behind him.

"What do you want?" Slim asked, keeping his voice calm, yet firm.

"Your life."

"Taft." Slim recognized the voice, but he didn't understand the reason.

"How's your back?"

Slim hadn't moved since Taft had crept up behind him, but now his whole body seemed frozen to the ground. There was only one man that would ask that question, the man who'd shot him in the first place. Taft was that man. Dozens of thoughts with questions marks jumped into his head and started running rapidly back and forth. Why was he back? How did he know he hadn't killed him? What was his motive now? Was he going to steal another horse? Why did he say he wanted his life? He'd already almost taken it, what did it mean to him now? But most pointedly was the question that mattered to Slim the most. Where was Jess?

"Turn around," Taft commanded. "This time I won't be shooting you in the back."

Slim turned, for the first time facing the man who'd nearly ended his life. He looked at him, scrutinizing him similarly as he had done when he thought Taft was seeking a job, but this time, Slim viewed him in an entirely different light. "Why shoot me at all?"

"Because you'll want to shoot me, too," Taft said coolly, his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Slim. "So I figure I'll get you first."

"Why?"

"I killed Harper," Taft said the words slowly with a sickening smile on his lips.

With the chills running up and down his spine he'd felt cold, but now with those words coming from Taft's mouth, Slim's blood began to boil until he felt hot enough to explode. His breathing increased along with his heart rate and his hand dangerously began to move towards his gun. Slim immediately remembered his sudden fear for Jess a few days earlier in feeling like his heart had been severed with the pain of dread that had overcome him. He hadn't wanted to believe that those emotions had stabbed him because Jess was dying, but the thought had never been removed from his mind until he awoke the next day and felt relieved. But now that Taft said he'd killed Jess, had that feeling of peace come upon him because Jess no longer suffered pain, because he was dead?

"You have the same expression on your face that Harper had on his right before I dropped him," Taft made a sound in his throat that resembled a chuckle. "Maybe you two really were like brothers."

"You killed Jess?" Slim asked, his voice rising higher than its usual calm tones.

"I just said I did," Taft continued his loathsome laughter.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Slim's volume neared a shout. "You could only be telling me you killed Jess to goad me into a fight and have reason to shoot me down."

"Smart thinking," Taft nodded his head, "but no. Look, I get it, you don't want to believe your buddy is gone. I didn't want to believe it either when I learned that my brother was dead, but he is. You see, Sherman, Harper killed my brother thinking he was the one who put that bullet in your back. Harper made a mistake, a deadly mistake. Do you honestly think I would let him live for what he did to my brother? Believe these words: I killed Jess Harper!"

"Then you better start preparing yourself," Slim said through a tightly clenched jaw, his words grating like he was scraping iron with them, "because you're right when you say that I want to kill you too."

"I don't have to prepare," Taft said as he pointed with his left hand at his drawn gun in his right. "In case you forgot, I already have my gun pointed at you. All I have to do is pull the trigger."

"Likely you probably did the same with Jess," Slim stared at the gun in Taft's hand, wondering if it was still in its holster if he would have his in hand instead, ready to blow this murdering skunk's head off. It surprised him at how much he felt like he'd turned into Jess. He felt like Jess was now in his head, perhaps because he was, because he was dead and the only living part that was left of his partner was inside of him.

"It's true I had my gun pointed at him before he ever drew his," Taft agreed, "but that's how I like to face my opponents. No contest."

"You'll have one now," Slim started to raise his voice again. "If you think you're going to gun me down after what you did to Jess without something in return, you're sorely mistaken."

The heated words were carried up into the air where a crow flew directly overhead. The bird, flapping its wings to flee the ominous scene as fast as it could, darted north where it set itself into a lower limb of a tree upon a hill that overlooked the land below. It thought itself safe, but when a rider leading another horse steamed towards its supposed safety, the crow lifted itself back into the air, flying over the incoming rider's hatless head in a flurry.

Jess gave no attention to the crow that seemed to barely miss his head in its take off flight. All his concern was wrapped around Slim. His sharp hearing picked up on Slim's voice from the ranch house below the hill where he perched, his only guess to the other was that it belonged to Taft. He wouldn't go barreling into the scene as he knew that would have only provoked Taft to drop Slim where he stood. Taft still thought he was a dead man, to save Slim's life he had to play the part a short time longer. He dismounted, easily finding where Taft had left his mount and he tied Traveler and Alamo alongside the bay that belonged to Ames.

Jess pulled his gun from its holster and then he slowly started to descend towards the ongoing conversation from below. Every ounce of pain that shot through Jess' limbs from the steps he was taking downward he completely set aside. For the sake of Slim, he'd slide down that hill with a dozen bullet holes in him, so having sore muscles, cracked ribs and whatever other damage he'd suffered would seem like nothing to endure.

Taft's trail was easy to follow, Jess discovered, as he traced the man's footsteps with his own. He found the boulder that he must have used to shield himself and crouched there for a moment, trying to hear the exact words from Slim and Taft, but he was still too far enough away that the whole flow of words wasn't connecting together to make sense. He only knew that Slim's voice sounded angry, as angry as he'd ever heard before and he admitted that it made his chest swell with pride that Slim could sound just like him. He continued down the remainder of the hill unseen.

Jess crept close to the side of the house, his gun in hand ready to be cocked, aimed and fired. He knew Taft wanted to kill Slim, but he also knew that Slim wanted to kill Taft. He was close enough now to hear the words coming from Slim's mouth and it was clear that he shared Taft's belief that he'd sent Jess to his grave. Even though Slim had skill with his gun, Jess knew that he was no match for Taft. Slim would draw against him, of that he was certain, because he was doing it for his best friend. Jess wasn't going to let him get that far. His vow to get Taft had come first and he intended that his draw would come first too. He paused long enough to listen, to make his entrance into the scene set into the perfect place to ensure Slim's safety.

"You still could be lying," Slim said sharply, as his mind screamed within him that despite everything Taft had told him, Jess could not be dead. "Jess is one of the very best with his gun."

"Even professional's meet there match."

"Meaning you? Don't make me laugh." Slim truly felt laughter in the back of his throat but wouldn't let it come out. "Jess is too skilled, too good with his gun to go down without a fight, without taking a part of you with him."

Taft exaggeratingly rolled his eyes and then started to push up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the purple and black bruise that surrounded the tight bandage that he'd wrapped around the wound. "Satisfied?" He shouted at Slim, "I didn't get this hole in my arm from snagging some briars. Harper put it there right before he died."

Jess watched Slim's eyes, seeing the fight start to turn into despair. He couldn't let this go any longer. It was time to put an end to Taft once and for all. He stepped away from the house, but because Slim and Taft were so deeply absorbed in each other, neither noticed Jess' approach. Jess took his steps quickly but as quietly as he could move until he was in the perfect position. Jess touched the hammer of his gun, the sound bringing two heads to sharply turn in his direction. The expression on Slim's face turned to joy, but Jess missed the elation that radiated from his partner, for his focus was entirely on Taft. Jess' mouth twitched at what he saw, wishing the look on Taft's face could forever be captured on print.

"What's the matter Taft?" Jess couldn't keep the smile from his lips as he saw Taft's shocked expression. "See a ghost?"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"You're pointing your gun at the wrong man, Taft," Jess said as he started to circle around both Slim and Taft. "In order for you to have a reason to kill Slim, you have to kill me first."

"You're already dead," Taft's eyes were wild, his face taking on the expression of a crazy man. "I know you're dead!"

"There's a gunfighter's rule that's vital to the business," Jess kept his eyes on Taft as he continued to slowly walk closer to get between Slim and Taft, waiting for any flinch from his hand. "When you're opponent's down, make sure he's dead before you claim a victory."

"I'll take that to heart next time," Taft said, his voice low and ominous as he watched Jess' every movement.

"You have a choice to make, Taft," Jess positioned his gun so it was aimed at his chest, noting that the barrel of Taft's gun was at the same level pointing towards him. "Surrender, giving yourself up to be tossed in jail or die right here by my hand. Which will it be?"

"Who says you're the one that gets to make the rules?" Taft glared at Jess, feeling all of the emotions towards his brother's killer return. "I don't like those options that you've given me, so I'll give some to you. The way I see it, is there are only two choices for either of us. Live or die. Of course, you could still do the surrendering part, but that'll only make my job easier for us all."

"I won't back down," Jess said defiantly, "if that's the way it'll be, so be it."

"Jess," Slim stepped behind Jess and put a hand onto his shoulder, "you don't have to do this for me."

"I do, Slim," Jess answered, without turning his head to look at Slim, but keeping his gaze fixed on Taft. "This started between Taft and me when he shot you in the back. It took a different turn when I gunned down his brother, in self-defense I might add, but he's out for my blood just as much as I'm out for his. This is solely between Taft and me. Step aside, Pard."

Slim looked at Jess, knowing there was nothing he could do to persuade him from taking Taft on. He had known it would be like this from the moment Jess had declared he was going after him. Certainly he'd hoped that the outcome would have been the guilty man being hauled off to jail to wait his sentencing, but that wasn't the reality. Here he was, standing next to his best friend who had saved his life from certain death and now was willing to lay down his life for his friend once more. A lump formed in Slim's throat as he squeezed Jess' shoulder, dropped his gun in his holster and stepped away.

"Now it's exactly the way it's supposed to be," Taft said, motioning with his hand for Jess to put his gun back on his hip, but it was only complied when Taft slid his back into his own holster. "It's just you and me, Harper. Seeing you die all over again is going to make all of this worthwhile. Oh, and Sherman, just in case you figure you'll be able to gun me down when your buddy hits dirt, don't try it. Remember I still want you just as dead as he'll be when he goes down, so just keep this in mind, you're next."

"Seems to me like the only part of you that's doing any action is your mouth," Jess perfected his stance, ready for Taft to draw. "Why don't you put your efforts into your trigger finger instead?"

"You really want to die, don't you Harper?"

"The only thing I wanna know is when you're gonna stop talking and start shooting," Jess said, knowing the time had come.

Jess had been in this position many times before. All gunfighters, current or former, never would forget how it felt in those few seconds before the guns were drawn. Trusting in your skill enough to stand your ground, yet knowing that your life could end with the pull of a trigger was never an easy thing to accomplish. To be the one left standing after the smoke cleared wasn't always about who was fastest or most precise in their aim, and didn't have anything to do with luck, but it was often the one who had the greatest reason to be there with gun in hand in the first place. In this fight, both men had the same reason.

Taft gripped the handle of his gun and pulled. Jess' hand flashed to do the same, his weapon exiting the holster first. Jess aimed, Taft aimed. Two triggers were pulled and two men went down, first one, and then the other. Taft grabbed his chest near his heart, feeling the heat of his blood seep through his fingers and was powerless to stop himself from falling forward. His face hit the dirt at the same moment that he took his last breath. Jess watched Taft go down, but then his own body began to sway. His legs buckled beneath him and soon his knees were on the ground, his shoulders slumping over as he put a hand to the dirt to try to keep the rest of his body from collapsing.

"Jess!" Slim shouted as he ran to his partner's side and dropped to his knees beside him, his mind screaming even more frantically that he was about to watch Jess die.

"I'm all right, Slim," Jess breathed heavily, looking up into Slim's anxious face.

"But you're hit," Slim's eyes searched Jess' entire frame for the sight of blood.

"No, I ain't," Jess shook his head, doing his best to sit up so Slim could fully see that he wasn't shedding blood anywhere. "I reckon I used all the strength I had left in me. My dad-gummed legs just gave out from underneath me."

Slim looked into Jess' eyes, seeing pain, but not seeing a lie and put his arms around Jess to offer his support. He wasn't satisfied until he didn't feel any moisture coming from Jess' body anywhere. He ran one hand across Jess' back but when Slim came around to the side and touched his ribs Jess winced and then gasped as he drew in an intake of breath.

"Ouch, Slim," Jess groaned, "don't do that."

"How, Jess?" Slim asked in bewilderment, "how did you get so badly hurt?"

"It wasn't easy," Jess shook his head and then pointed a finger towards Taft's motionless body. "He wasn't lying when he said he killed me, well, almost. I fell over a cliff alongside a waterfall and nearly drowned. I don't recollect much about it, just that somehow I heard your voice yelling at me while I fought for life in the water."

Slim sat up a little straighter as the full memory of the onslaught of worries about Jess came back into his mind in a flurry. He understood every emotion he'd felt, especially when he'd called out for Jess to breathe. Even though his physical body and voice couldn't reach out to Jess, their strong, brotherly connection knew no such boundaries. Even when separated by great distances, each man carried a piece of the other with them, which nothing, not even anything as harrowing as death, could tear apart.

"I wish I'd get over this blamed weaklingness," Jess missed the grin on Slim's face over his made up word. "I might like little kittens but I sure don't enjoy feeling like one."

"Come on, Pard," Slim gently lifted Jess to his feet, brushed some of the dirt off of his partner's clothes and then wrapped his arm around Jess to help him walk. "Bed's where you belong."

Slim didn't care how much pressure Jess' weight put on his back and the searing twinge that went down his spine all the way down to his feet as every nerve was pinched in pain, the only thing that mattered was helping Jess get off of his feet. After Jess had plunked his boots onto the floor and climbed into bed, Slim did his best to put Taft's body out of sight, planning on sending a message with the next Laramie bound stage for Mort to come take care of the evil gun slick. Spent from exertion, Slim went back into the bedroom and met Jess' gaze from where he lay on his bed.

"This scene feels very familiar," Slim said as he sat down on his bunk next to Jess' bed. "Except it's you in bed and not me."

"Yeah," Jess nodded, "but I ain't dying from a bullet wound. I'm just battered and weary clear down to my bones so you ain't got any need to start bawling over my poor wounded body like I did for you."

"I thought you didn't cry," Slim gave Jess a quizzical look.

"I don't," Jess shrugged, wiping his hand over his unshaven cheek as if he was rubbing away any unseen tears. "Well, not usually anyway. Don't look at me like that, Slim, I ain't lying, well, maybe a little. Dad-gum, I reckon that any man, given the right circumstances has the right to shed a tear or two, even me. Satisfied?"

"The only satisfaction I need is that you're back home where you belong, alive and, uh, unwell."

Jess smiled, turning his face to look at Slim, ready to crack a joke but didn't produce it when he noticed the pinched expression on Slim's face. Slim was hurting again and Jess suddenly wanted to kick himself for allowing Slim to pick him up out of the dirt and put him into bed, when Slim hadn't yet reached full recovery himself. Jess sat up in bed and reached his hand out to touch Slim's arm, bringing both sets of blue eyes together.

"You need to rest, Slim," Jess said softly. "I'll only lay back down in bed if you promise you'll do the same."

"All right, Jess," Slim sighed, rubbing his back before he stretched his legs out on his bed. "By the way, I need to thank you."

"For what?" Jess looked over at Slim with his eyebrows raised.

"For saving my life."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" Jess rubbed his head. "I know nearly drowning left me a little foggy in the noggin, but I coulda sworn we've been over this already."

"We did," Slim said chuckling. "But in case that foggy noggin of yours is so thick it can't remember a few minutes ago, you just saved my life again when you shot Taft."

"I remember," Jess nodded, their humor, which had readily come with the release of their tensions, was now ready to be set aside. "But I also remember hearing some things you said as I was climbing down the hill and sneaking up behind you. You were ready to fight for me, kill Taft because you thought he'd killed me. Revenge backed you up, just as it had for me. I ain't gonna be forgetting that type of brotherly love you showed me."

"Jess," Slim started, his throat feeling thick with emotion. Hadn't he that very day wondered if Jess had felt Slim's love and here Jess said those exact words aloud? Slim cleared his throat before he could continue, with a smile curling the corners of his lips as he talked. "I don't know all of what you heard me say, but every word that I said to Taft, I meant. I'll tell you something Jess, I truly know everything that you went through in your quest for revenge. There was such a fury that rose inside of me that I didn't know could even exist. From the moment he said he killed you, intense emotions of anguish coursed through my veins, heating everything inside of me to anger."

"I reckon my hot head's kinda been rubbing off on you," Jess said softly. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Slim answered honestly. "You're a remarkable man, Jess, in many different ways and I'm only a better man to have some of your uniqueness start to grow inside of me."

"Thanks, Slim," Jess looked down at his shirt like he was just aware that a button was missing in the middle. "I ain't used to having compliments. I hope you're done, 'cause I'm afraid I'm gonna turn pink."

"I'm almost done, Pard, just one more. I'll never forget what you did for me, going to the lengths you must have endured, continuing onward in your pain to get Taft for me. You have a special kind of brotherly love yourself, right there inside of you." Slim switched the topic rapidly when he saw his partner's cheeks grow rosy. "Hold on, did you say you came down that hill on foot? No wonder you collapsed. How many miles did you have to walk?"

"Just down the hill," Jess pointed to where the hill was beyond the wall. "I forgot to tell you, I brought Alamo back. He's tied up there with Traveler and Taft's mount, which is actually Ames' horse, but that's a whole different side story."

"I don't suppose I'm going to get to hear the whole story, side stories and all," Slim looked over at Jess as he shrugged.

"I reckon with both you and I laid up for a spell, there'll be plenty of time to tell the story a couple of different times, including the part about the woman." Jess said this just to get a rise out of Slim. Of course Slim didn't know that the woman was old enough to be their great-aunt, already married and somewhat intolerable. Jess wiped the smile from his mouth and turned his head towards the window. "Hey, don't I hear a wagon rolling in?"

"Must be Andy and Jonesy coming back," Slim said after he turned his face away from Jess' comical expression. "I'll send Andy up the hill to fetch the horses when he comes in."

The front door opened and Jonesy walked in, carrying a load of supplies in his arms. He went into the kitchen and Jonesy's voice called out Slim's name. "You in the house?"

"Yeah, in here," Slim called in response and then grimaced. He turned to Jess and spoke in a hushed tone, "I forgot, I'm not supposed to be in bed."

"Slim," Jonesy strode into the bedroom with his finger wagging in Slim's direction. "You promised me you'd still be standing when I returned and look at you, laid out in bed because you did something you shouldn't have. Oh, hi there Jess. Slim, I ought to tan your hide … wait … Jess!" Jonesy stepped over to Jess and pumped his hand up and down. "Good to see you home. When did you get in? Wait a minute, why are you in bed too? You look like you were on the wrong end of a fight."

"I was on the right end of the fight, Jonesy," Jess smiled, "but the wrong end of a cliff."

"I don't think I want to ask any more questions," Jonesy shook his head. "But if what's going on is what I'm afraid is going on, it looks like I'm gonna have my hands full of two injured men for a while." Jonesy turned away and walked out the bedroom door, but in a moment, his head was poking back inside, a smile on his face. "But you know something? I'm not gonna complain one bit. You two are both here and alive and I couldn't be happier. Holler if you need any medicinal purposes."

"Will do, Jonesy," Jess pushed deeper into his pillow and sighed.

"Tired, Jess?" Slim asked.

"Yeah," Jess nodded, "but it's more than that. I was just thinking that it's been a long time since I've been able to put my head back like this, with nothing stopping me from relaxing. Sure, my body's still complaining, rather loudly in places, but that's just hurting going on from the outside. The stuff that comes on the inside, where no one else can see, well, that's a whole lot harder to deal with."

"I know what you mean, Jess," Slim tapped his finger on his heart. "But what I'm feeling here right now, is nothing but gratitude."

There was a moment of silence, a moment to pause and contemplate, but then in one motion, Slim and Jess turned to face each other, saying together in unison, "thank you, Pard." Their smiles that followed were enough, as they had no reason to expound any further.

As the day drew to a close, normalcy returned to certain areas of the ranch. Alamo and Traveler were content in the barn, Andy was laughing once more as he dried dishes alongside a humming Jonesy and a comforting feeling of peace filled every room because every member of the family was where they belonged. Slim and Jess, still in bed, were the only part of the scene that was out of the ordinary, yet it was these two friends that made the picture complete. Without them, life was poor. Together, life was good.


End file.
